A Sudden Proposal
by The Real Christine Daae
Summary: She looked him in the eyes, so close were they that she saw her reflection in them. With a delicate caress she held his face in her palm and whispered, "I love you Erik."
1. A Sudden Proposal

Christine's hands fidgeted with the folds in her dress. She seemed altogether preoccupied with the fact that there was a small seam in the lace that had come loose and she could not help from playing with the loose ribbon that now hung a few inches from the stitching.

"Where can he be?" she wondered to herself. Erik was running a little behind in meeting her. He had told her earlier at her lesson to please meet him at the café across the street from the opera at 9:00. He had something important he wished to discuss with her.

Christine nervously replayed those last words in her head over and over again. What had he meant? As always his comments were spoken in a hushed tone so she could not always decipher his mood. Was he angry with her for something? She prayed to god that it did not have anything to do with Raoul this time. For the past two weeks, she had managed to avoid the Vicomte and his tiring advances and to her great relief, Erik had seemed in a better mood than usual as a result.

But then again, he had sounded so serious when he told her he wished to speak to her. A thousand and one possibilities raced through her mind. With Erik, one could only guess. Could he be leaving? Her heart sank at that thought and she quickly and happily pushed it from her mind to replace it with thoughts that the news would be good.

She glanced at the clock on the café wall. It was now ten after the hour. Where could he be? It wasn't like him to be late.

She let her thoughts wander aimlessly over the past months and the time she had spent with him. After having gotten over her own embarrassment of her own naiveté of having believed he was the Angel of Music, she had grown quite used to the idea of him being a normal human being. No, scratch that. Erik was far from normal, even excluding his sad fate of having to wear the mask. He was quite possibly the most extraordinary man she had ever met or even heard of. His entire existence exuded a mystery that she could not and dared not try to comprehend. Erik simply was who he was. Christine blushed when she let herself remember that this unimaginably gifted person had proclaimed his undying love for her and was her proffered slave should she ever desire it.

Christine hung her head in her lap. Weeks had gone by since she stayed with him and discovered the truth to his sad farce and she still could not come to grips with her feelings toward him. What was it she felt exactly, she wondered? As the Angel of Music, she felt love towards the mystic being who claimed himself to be her protector and mentor, but there could never be any real relationship between them. When she discovered the truth to his identity, she cried a long time as she realized his desperation in loving her; that he was willing to give up his security and show his true self to her, no matter the cost.

Before she could think on it more, she saw a dark cloaked figure approaching. She stood to greet him, as he came nearer. His hastened steps slowed as he came closer and she could see him breath deeply.

"Christine, I must apologize for being late," Erik explained as he motioned for her to once again take her seat. He joined her in the adjoining chair which lay half in the shadows. 'She is always considerate to notice such things for my comfort' he thought to himself, feeling a wave of his adoration for her sweep over him.

Christine was about to ask why he had been late, but Erik could already see that and answered her question before she could open her mouth, "I was detained due to a rude gentleman whom had chosen to loiter around my exit in the Rue Scribe."

Christine smiled and nodded in assent. She started to play with the silverware on the table. Erik struck up a conversation asking her about how rehearsals went and whether Carlotta had given her any trouble today. She tried to ignore the gnawing thought in the back of her mind that he had either forgotten that 'something important to discuss' subject or that he was avoiding bringing it up.

Erik hesitated to bring up the subject he so wished to discuss with Christine, but he was nervous to ask such a big thing from her. Luckily the waiter came by to offer them drinks. For once he was thankful for the welcomed distraction. When the gentleman left them alone once again, there stood an awkward silence between the two and Erik finally cleared his throat.

"Christine," Erik began.

"Yes Erik?" Christine replied, hoping to hide her nervousness with a sweet smile.

Erik smiled back, now much less confident than he had felt moments before. His fingers twitched on the white tablecloth, betraying his need to take her hand into his at this moment.

She watched them slowly creep across the length of the small table to where her hand lie. She could not take her eyes off his fingers as their warmth touched ever so lightly to her own gloved hand. Without warning, she started to cry. Her shoulders shook once or twice as the tears began to squeeze out of her tightly shut eyes.

"Christine, what's the matter?" Erik worried.

"You're going to leave me now aren't you? That's what this is all about. That's why you asked me to meet you isn't it?" she managed to sob out.

Erik nearly let go of her hand, too shocked for words. What brought this on he wondered? As incredulously as it may seem, Christine was in tears at the thought of him leaving her. He was so surprised by her sudden absurd notion that he nearly burst out laughing.

Christine buried her face into her other hand, not seeing the shocked look on Erik's face.

"No, Christine! No, I'm not leaving you. What gave you that idea?" Erik stammered.

Christine's sobs quieted and she looked up at him. "You're not?"

"No, Christine, why would I do that?"

Christine felt a little embarrassed that she had let her imagination run wild. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me like that."

Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for her to dry her eyes with.

Christine wiped her face dry, now completely having made a fool of herself and handed it back to Erik. "Thank you," she whispered.

Erik replaced the handkerchief in his pocket and regained his composure with a big breath. "Christine, the reason I asked you to meet me here tonight isn't about anything bad."

Christine's eyes lit up and she smiled back at Erik, whom had once again taken to holding her fingertips in his own.

"I wanted to ask you something. I have a surprise for you, but I wanted to have your permission before I went through with giving it to you," Erik stumbled, trying to explain himself.

Christine now completely confused asked, "Erik, what on earth are you talking about? What permission do you need?"

Erik laughed a bit, "I suppose I'm not making a stitch of sense am I?"

"No, you're not," Christine laughed back.

"What I'm trying to say here," he began, "is that you have been under a lot of stress lately with the opera and all. And I know I have been pushing you very hard. I just want to see you do well. I thought it might be nice if we took advantage of the break between shows and went away for awhile."

Erik breathed a long breath now that he had gotten it out. He realized how inappropriate it might seem for him to propose such and idea, but given their unique circumstances, he didn't think it would matter.

"Went away? Where and for how long?"

Erik smiled optimistically and explained, "Well, I was thinking we could take a short trip to the countryside, possibly to the coast. It might do you some good to be away from everything for awhile."

"Oh Erik, I'd love to!" Christine exclaimed enthusiastically.

Erik, hardly believing that she agreed desperately tried to remain nonchalant when inside he was bursting. A trip to the coast meant they would be alone together for at least a week. Alone from the opera, but more importantly, away from that interfering boy.

Erik told Christine that he had everything planned and that he would drop a note to the management letting them know that she would be back in time for the rehearsals for the new production. She giggled like a little girl and he sent her home in the carriage he hailed.

As he walked back to the opera he felt his heart soar. He would be alone away from all outside distraction and influence with his little Christine. Even when they stayed in his home beneath the opera, there were still too many things going on around them to make her concentrate less on her music. As he poled across the still black waters of the lake, he went back to their conversation earlier and how Christine suddenly burst into tears. He wondered to himself what sort of thoughts she could have conjured in her head to make her think that he was leaving her all of the sudden. Perhaps he had just been too demanding lately.

Christine meanwhile had gone home to pack her bag. She did not know why Erik would suddenly suggest going away together for a short while, but for the time being, she did not care and welcomed the vacation with open arms. As she packed her clothing, she found herself blushing in her mirror at the thought that they would be staying in very close quarters over the course of their trip. True, she had shared his home, but she had had the safety of her own bedroom and he had his. They would now have to sleep quite possibly in the same room.

As she readied herself for bed, she found herself thinking the silliest thoughts such as, 'what does Erik wear to bed' and 'what if I talk in my sleep'? As her mind drifted over the trip ahead, she fell deep asleep.


	2. The Journey Begins

Christine stood in the misty morning air. She knew she was early, but it would be rude of her to keep Erik waiting. She glanced at the bag at her side once again. Did she pack enough she wondered? Did she pack the right sort of clothing? Knowing to where they were going to journey might have helped. She sighed to herself. No matter; Erik wouldn't mind.

Christine heard the clatter of hoofs on the cobblestone street and she spied a swinging lantern through the fog. The carriage slowed just before her and rocked to a stop. The butterflies in her stomach started up again when she thought of being alone with Erik for an entire week, away from the opera. The door to the carriage swung open and Erik stepped out. The driver was about to step down to take Christine's bag from her, but he spied Erik's mask and stayed where he sat. He had not seen Erik when he entered the carriage due to the fog. He just suddenly felt someone step aboard and order him to drive to the given address where they had just arrived.

Christine smiled at the nervous driver as Erik swung her bag onto the back of the buggy. He gestured for her to enter, smiling to himself. Not even the petrified man waiting with the horses could spoil this day for him. He got back in himself and ordered the driver on. With a crack of the whip, the carriage started swinging it's way down the empty street.

Inside the carriage, Erik took notice of the modest dress that Christine was wearing and how she smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. She looked up and smiled at him prettily.

"So, where are we going Erik?"

Erik grinned behind his mask. "Ahh, but you see, that is a surprise, I told you that yesterday."

"You tease me good sir," Christine said playfully.

"If that is what it takes to see you smile so beautifully," he replied, spreading his hands in an open gesture.

She tossed her head and looked out the window, trying to hide her smile. "If you get to tease me, then I suppose it only fair for me to do the same," she replied, winking at him.

He laughed a little, "I suppose if it is to be fair."

"I mean after all, you did leave me waiting all of ten minutes on the street corner! And then to pick me up in such an anonymous fashion! The whole block will be speaking of what a horribly trashy little chorus girl I am." She smiled at him, but his expression had changed.

Erik started to apologize, "Christine I am so sorry. For a moment I did not think of what such a strange rendezvous might do to your reputation, and I didn't mean to keep you waiting for so long..."

Christine stared at him incredulously. "Erik, I was just teasing you. Don't you know sarcasm when you hear it?"

Erik looked back at her, his expression not changing much.

"You mean you haven't ever had someone joke playfully with you before?"

Erik hung his head slightly, "Christine, I have not had many people I could trust, much less call a friend."

Christine looked at her folded hands in her lap, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You have given me that opportunity. Yes I have been your teacher, but more than that, I feel you are my friend. My only friend."

Christine felt that he meant to say more than friends, but he left it at that. True, she did trust him more than anyone she had known, aside from her Papa. On an impulse, she carefully left her seat to sit beside him.

"Christine, what are you doing?"

"Sitting by my friend. I didn't think there was anything wrong with that."

"No, nothing at all," Erik sighed into the misty air.

The carriage pulled into the train station and Erik helped Christine down from the steps. He had pulled a dark hood over hid head, concealing most of the mask that showed under his hat. Christine marveled at the steam coming from the engine and the bustle of the early morning passengers loading and unloading bags from the trains. Erik left her with the bags for just a moment to secure their travel tickets.

Erik avoided the usual stares as he stood in line and even managed to keep the ticket master from looking too closely by keeping his hood down. As he walked back to where he left Christine waiting, a gust of wind blew his hood halfway back and caused a few people to turn their heads as he frantically started to grasp the material back over hid head. They curiously followed him with their eyes after having caught a glance of the mask, but as soon as he reached Christine, they went back to what they were doing before as though nothing had happened.

Erik hurried Christine onto the train and they bumped their way past the other people in the narrow walkways to their passenger compartment. They finally reached the door that matched their number and filed inside. Once the door was closed behind them, Erik plopped down on the bench seat and threw the hood back, breathing deeply.

"Erik, are you all right?"

Erik smiled at Christine, "Yes my dear, I'm fine. I just don't like crowded places like that. They make me rather nervous."

Christine nodded in agreement. She had never really been one for large crowds and confined spaces.

"So where are we going Erik? Won't you tell me or am I to be your unknowing prisoner until we reach our destination?" Christine pleaded.

Erik laughed and muttered under his breath, "Curiosity killed the cat,"

"What was that?" Christine asked.

"Never mind," Erik said.

"Come one Erik, please tell me," she begged. "If you don't tell me soon, I'll burst!"

"All right, if you put it that way! We can't have any bursting going on around here or the superintendent might wonder about the mess," Erik toyed playfully.

Christine leaned forward and waited for him to tell her, but he said nothing and just sat there with this odd smirk about his lips. "Well, aren't you going to tell me where we are headed?"

"I was rather hoping to see if you would in fact 'burst' if I waited long enough."

Christine giggled exasperated. This was worse than waiting to open a Christmas present!

"All right, I'll tell you!" Erik laughed, "We are going to Perros-Guerec."

Christine's eyes went wide, "Really? I have not been there in so long, except to visit my father's grave."

"Yes, I thought you might enjoy the sea and to visit some of your favorite places you grew up playing in."

Christine lost in thoughts of the past and where they would soon be, grasped his hands together in hers and pulled them near to her. "Thank you Erik, thank you so much!"


	3. Arrival

When the train arrived in Perros-Guirec, they acquired a small carriage to take them through town.

"Erik, do you know where you would like to stay, or may I make a suggestion?" Christine asked while the carriage gently rocked them down the road.

"No, Christine, I had not exactly planned ahead. I just knew that at this time of year there would not be very many travelers so I safely assumed we could find suitable lodgings in town at one of the local inns. However, since you are very much more familiar with this city than I am, if there is anyplace you would care to stay in particular..." He gestured towards her, giving her way.

"My father and I always stayed at the Inn of the Setting Sun, near the bay."

Erik smiled and tapped on the wall of the carriage to order the driver to their chosen location.

Erik spent most of the carriage ride to the inn in silence, watching Christine with adoring eyes as her gaze swept across the countryside villages. He knew that she would have been re-living many memories from her past and felt no desire to interrupt that. At one point she got very nearly teary-eyed then took a deep breath and sighed. The love he felt for this beautiful creature before him nearly overwhelmed him at times. He had to remind himself that she did not, could not feel the same way about him, therefore he must keep his distance rather than act upon the impulse to sweep her up in his arms and never let go.

The carriage eventually came to a stop and Christine quickly exited after Erik and waited as he paid the driver with his head low under his hood.

Christine picked up her bag and started towards the Inn across the street. It was a quaint little place, slightly shabby, but clean and bright. It was a place where her father had exchanged many a performance in the supper hall in exchange for a room for the two of them for the night. Christine then recognized a rather plump and older woman working in the garden out front.

"Madame Beauchamp? Marie? Is that you?" Christine called.

The old woman straightened, brushing a few stray locks out of her face with a soiled-gloved hand. "Now, I would recognize that voice anywhere!" she exclaimed. "Mademoiselle Christine Daae!" She dropped her garden pick and removed her gloves as she walked to greet her at the front gate.

Christine dropped her bag and gave the old woman a large hug and she in return squeezed the breath out of young Christine in her excitement at seeing the young lady again.

"How have you been my dear? Let me take a look at you!" she said with an appraising eye. "My, how you've grown since the last time I saw you!" Then she spotted Erik, in his fine hooded cloak coming up the walk with the rest of the luggage. She could not see his masked face. "And who is this fine gentleman? No doubt, he's none other than you're sweetheart le Vicomte de Chagny! I always knew you would marry one day!"

Christine's face fell. Erik dropped the bags on the path in his shock.

Christine quickly corrected her, "No, Marie. He is not Raoul," Christine thought quickly, "How very rude of me for not introducing you. This is monsieur..." Christine stopped, suddenly aware that she did not know his last name.

Erik stepped in, "Monsieur Erik Durand," he offered his hand to Marie whom she politely took.

Christine added, "He is an old friend of my fathers, and my music teacher."

"Oh, well then, any friend of M. Daae is most welcome. I suppose you will be wanting separate rooms then?" Marie asked awkwardly.

Erik recovered enough from the shock of hearing himself as being recognized as the rich young man, Raoul, enough to pick up the bags and reluctantly nod to Marie. His cloak had fallen back slightly from his face, revealing a small bit of his mask.

Marie tried to get a better look, but decided she was being rude and was thoroughly embarrassed enough at her accidental identification of the strange yet graceful man whom had accompanied Christine. She offered to show them in, leading the way inside. She left the two of them in the front room to get the guest book from the small office adjoining it.

Christine raised an eyebrow and whispered, "Durand? You never told me your name before and to be quite honest I had never thought to ask it."

"I must apologize," Erik whispered back, "It is not my real name, as I have told you that my name was quite accidental. It is a name I use from time to time when necessary."

"I see," Christine replied. She was still quite embarrassed at what Marie had said outside. Surely the finery of his clothing and not seeing his face could have mistaken anyone. She wondered what Erik was thinking or feeling after all that awkwardness. Before she could ask, Marie returned to the room.

Christine watched the passerby's out the front window as Erik signed the guest book and paid for lodgings for the entire week.

Marie showed them to two adjoined rooms in the upstairs hall. "This was the room you used to stay in with your father was it not?"

Christine nodded as the sight of the room caused memories to sweep into her head.

"Well, everything should be in order. Ring if you need anything at all. Christine, it's so good to see you again!" She gave one last look at Erik's masked face, which now shone brightly in the gas light and dismissed her curiosity.

"Its wonderful to see you as well," Christine replied as she shut the door behind her.

Erik stood silently in the corner of the room, watching Christine. She could tell that every muscle in his body had been tense during the entire exchange.

"Its ok Erik, you can relax now," she smiled at him. "She can be a bit overwhelming at times, but she means well and has a kind heart."

"Christine, you know I am not used to being around, well, people most of the time. But when I heard her call me..."

"Yes, Erik. I know. It was rude of her to presume to know who you were. Just please take in mind that she knew Ra... the Vicomte very well too, as he had frequent visits here. It was not her place to assume I would end up marrying him, although we were frequently teased as children that one day we would be." Christine could tell that her attempts to calm him down were failing miserably and with every mention of Raoul, he grew more hurt and ill tempered.

"Why would anyone assume otherwise? You are practically engaged to the boy!" he said, his voice growing into a growl with each word.

He made to leave the room when she stepped in front of him and stopped him with her large blue eyes and hurt expression. "I am not engaged to him, nor do I plan to be. And I severely tire of everyone else telling me otherwise," she exclaimed rather coldly.

Erik was completely taken aback by her sudden fierce defense. He immediately felt badly for jumping to conclusions. His entire plan to get her away from him for this one week in hopes that his absence might help her to forget him, and so far, the entire time there was spent arguing over him.

"I'm sorry my dear. Please forgive me. It's just that..."

"What?"

"He is entirely unworthy of you," Erik said wearily.

"Don't you think that's for me to decide?" she asked.

Erik could not answer. A lump in his throat had suddenly grown dangerously large. He tried to clear it, only half succeeding. "Christine," he whispered standing slightly closer to her, "Its just that I..." The lump was back and the tears had begun to sting the backs of his eyes.

"Yes, Erik?" Christine said softly.

"Well, It's just that I care for you so very much," his voice wavered threatening to crack.

"I know you do, Erik," she smiled at him and touched her hand to his arm.

Erik could not go on to say what he so badly needed to say. "We had better separate and freshen up for supper. I should like to take you someplace wonderful to dine." He managed a weak smile towards her as she nodded and opened the door that separated their rooms. "I shall knock when I am ready to leave, my dear."

He made to leave and she stopped him once more, "I just wanted to thank you for bringing me here. You have no idea how much it means to me."

She closed the door behind him and he sighed to himself, "And to me as well."


	4. Apology and Hope

Christine went to the toilette to freshen up. She looked at her face in the mirror, which was by now, terribly flush. It took some cold water and deep breaths to return her pink cheeks to their normal shade. Why, she thought, did he have to be so accusing? Yes, she and Raoul were friends, mostly due to their childhood memories, but that friendship had changed over the years. They were certainly not the same people they once were when they were young and innocent. Her father's death had greatly changed her personality to one of remorse and hopelessness,. That is until she met Erik, her Angel of Music. He had give her a spark back to her life, although she still had her melancholy moments when she would slip into depression with the feeling of her loss and loneliness.

Raoul on the other hand had changed only slightly. His padded and comforted life had only changed from having very few responsibilities, to having quite a few as he made his debut in the public eye as an aristocratic man. He still retained his boyish innocence as well as his stubbornness to defy his brother Philippe in attempting to court her. Such things were just not done in modern society and differences in class were rarely breached and thought of as a splendid occurrence. Christine could see this, but apparently Raoul could not, or rather, chose not to.

Christine thought to herself as she changed from her travel dress to something more suitable for supper, but still warm enough to protect her from the harbor winds. What did she feel for Raoul, truly? Anymore, he was more of an escape to her friendly past from the harsher realities of the current time. When she was with him, she did not have to care about the dismal gossip of the corp. de ballet, nor the petty trifles of life and having to make a living on her own at such a young age. But then, there was Erik. He too was an escape, but she had to admit that he was more of an escape to the future. What future? Who knew? But when she was with him, she no longer dwelled on the sad reality of her past but looked towards a brighter future where she was the star of the Opera Populaire and her father's death did not scar her any longer.

Erik was such a mystery, she mused. It had taken her awhile to overcome the strangeness of his unusual features as well as his eccentric ways. It had taken her awhile to forgive him of his deceit in preying upon her fantasies of the Angel of Music. But now all that seemed rather inconsequential. She felt something for him that she really could not define even to herself.

She finished dressing and straightened her hair with the use of the dresser mirror. Being rather pleased with herself, she sat and waited for Erik to call upon her.

Erik had to take a few moments to compose himself after Christine had left his room. Why on earth did he seem to have no control over his emotions in her presence? He, who was in control of every aspect in his life, except for the fate appointed to him due to his face, could not seem to belay his feelings for her. They say that you can read certain people's faces like a book. He thought to himself, 'Thank God she cannot see mine."

Erik stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at himself as he undressed. He reached up and slowly removed his mask.

"You love her," he spoke to himself, "But you don't stand a chance to win her if you don't manage to get a grip on your feelings for her. You do yourself no good if you let your hatred and jealousy of that damned boy get in the way. She will only resent you for it." He gripped the sides of the mirror and let his bare face come to rest against the cool surface. A tear trickled down his cheek. "Oh, if only I had been born as he. Then she would love me."

He stood before the mirror for a long time, hating his reflection, willing it to change into something beautiful for the thousandth time that week. He longed for beauty so much, he would be willing to sacrifice all he had, to create it for himself.

With a heavy sigh, he realized how long he had been standing there wishing the mirror would somehow magically change his appearance. He slowly donned his mask, and put on a fresh shirt and jacket then went to her door and knocked softly.

Downstairs, the other few guests staying there were sitting in overstuffed chairs talking low, waiting on the supper in the great hall to be served by Marie and her servants. A few others were preparing to leave for dinner elsewhere. Erik and Christine walked down the stairs arm in arm, in silence. They both seemed to sense the uncomfortable air that was leftover from their slight argument earlier. Erik stiffened as a few people in the room glanced their way as they entered the room. Erik had his hood up over his mask already, but still felt naked under their unassuming gaze. Surprised to him, they did not pay the couple that much attention and went back to their chatting as they left the front door.

Erik hailed a cab and helped Christine inside, pausing a moment outside to inquire the driver as to a nice restaurant by the sea. Christine heard the driver's muffled response and the carriage swayed as Erik stepped inside and seated himself by her side.

They both sat and listened to the creaking of the wheels and the clopping sound of the horse's hooves. Neither of them felt right to break the silence.

Christine sat wondering if Erik was upset with her for having spoken so forcefully to him. She hadn't meant to come off so strong in defending her supposed relationship to Raoul. A stab of guilt struck her once more as she recalled the pitiful crack in his voice when he said Raoul was not worthy of her. Perhaps Erik was right. Perhaps Raoul was not worthy of her, after all, what had he ever done for her?

Erik was the first to speak, "Christine," he whispered, "I want to apologize for earlier. I had no right to say the things I did. I know that you and the boy are not promised to one another and I should not have accused you of it."

"It's alright. I was just taken aback from first hearing it from Mme. Beauchamp, and then again from you," she sighed. "I should not have raised my voice to you."

"Christine," Erik replied, his hand aching to take hers in it, "It is hard for me to express my feelings in the proper manner. You must excuse me of that. I sometimes just don't know exactly what to say."

Christine nodded for him to continue.

"I guess what I wish to know from you is," he paused to swallow, "what exactly is your relationship to the Vicomte?"

Christine lowered her eyes, "I don't know. He is my friend and perhaps in a way, always will be."

"But?" Erik replied. "But you wish for something more?" The words tore at his throat like torturous razor blades.

"I don't know," she said. That was the honest truth, and perhaps the only one she could offer right now. "He wishes it to be more, but…"

Erik steeled himself for what was to follow.

"But I know better than that. For once I seem to be the one who is thinking logically about this situation while he is the one living in fantasy. It would seem our roles have changed."

Erik felt incredibly numb. Christine seemed to be a little regretful of having to admit that to herself. "Christine, what if that wasn't the case? What if all things were equal? What if social standings meant nothing? What then?"

"I don't know. I care for him very much, but there's something missing."

"Like?" Erik croaked out, not really wanting to hear more, but dying to know the truth.

"Who knows?" Christine replied. "Would you mind if we don't talk about this anymore?"

"Of course," Erik breathed a sigh of slight relief, but still felt the twinge of jealousy at the back of his mind. "One more question, though?"

"Hmm?"

Erik took a deep breath, unconsciously grasped her warmly gloved hand, "If all things were equal, and I were," he swallowed hard, "normal…"

Christine gave him a nervous lopsided smile, "You are far too extraordinary to be 'normal', Erik."

"That's not exactly what I meant…"

"I know what you meant but I meant what I just said." She hesitantly reached up to his face and lightly touched the mask, feeling him tense even more as he fought not to back away from her hand that had once stripped away his dignity, "This," she gestured, "matters not compared to the rest of your being."

Erik closed his eyes and gripped her hand tighter, suddenly realizing that he was holding it he lessened his clutch to a softer one. "Thank you, Christine."

The cab came to a stop at their destination, and as Erik helped Christine down, he choked back a small tear of hope.


	5. Supper and After

The restaurant was at a seaside resort for rich travelers to stay and dine. Erik berated himself for having not discovered this more luxurious spot to lodge before Christine had suggested staying at the Inn. Then again, he thought to himself, he could not bear the shame of having his money refused upon seeing his 'eccentric' mask.

The driver had most graciously suggested this spot, when Erik inquired where they might have some privacy while dining. The finely dressed host showed them to their secluded little balcony table. It was rather like being seated at the opera in a private box, only the 'stage' was a view of the seashore through glass panes. When the host left them and drew the curtains down for their privacy, Erik removed Christine's cloak and his own and pulled her chair out for her to sit.

Christine's face glowed warmly in the candlelight from the short flamed candles on the table. The sconces behind her head gave her hair a hazelnut shimmer that made Erik wish to run his hands through its softness.

"I hope you don't mind the seclusion of our dining table tonight," Erik said.

"Not at all," Christine replied, "I rather enjoy it. It's so warm and cozy in here."

As they were looking over the menus, Christine studied Erik over the top of hers. He was so magnificently powerful, and yet so incredibly vulnerable, she thought. When his eyes lifted to glance at her, she quickly looked back down, pretending to be absorbed in the choices before her.

For the second time that evening, Erik received a small ounce of hope. She had been looking at him. And then quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to be caught staring. But it wasn't her stare that gave him hope, it was the look on her face and the deep blush that came after. She had not been staring out of pity or disgust, it seemed more to be out of curiosity.

"Is something on your mind dear?" Erik inquired.

"Hmm?" Christine looked up. "I was just deciding on supper."

"I meant besides that," he gently pried. "You were blushing just now," he pointed out.

"I was?" Christine said nervously. "I must be a little flush from coming in from the chilly air."

"Ahh," Erik said. He could tell she wasn't telling the truth, but just wanted to know if she would say what was truly on her mind. "Yes, there is a bit of chill in the air, but it's hardly unpleasant yet. It won't be for another month before the true cold hits."

"That's quite true," she said.

'What are we doing?' Erik wondering to himself. 'We are chatting about the weather of all things?'

The waiter appeared and took their order while rudely staring at Erik's mask. He did not even pay enough attention to write down Christine's order, which irritated Erik to no end.

"The lady said she would like the filet mignon, Monsieur," Erik repeated, breaking him out of his fascinated trance. He quickly jotted down the orders on his pad and left.

"I apologize for that," Erik said.

"For what? A rude waiter?" Christine replied. "That wasn't your fault."

"I know, but I still feel badly for having to subject you to the uncomfortable situations that my mask creates."

"Its alright, Erik. It's quite excusable. Besides, its nothing you can help, now is it?" Christine reassured him.

"No, I suppose not. They stare when I wear the mask, and they scream and run if I don't. I suppose that staring isn't so bad. But I still hate it, especially since it affects you." Erik sighed deeply and lowered his eyes to the table.

Christine, trying to lighten the mood a bit said, "It could be worse."

"Oh really, how?" Erik said moodily.

"You could be morbidly obese. Or you could have six arms instead of two."

"My dear, with six arms, I should be delighted. I could play three times the music I already do. I could be my own orchestra with that many hands!" Erik chuckled.

"You are great enough without them, but one could only imagine what your music would be like then. You would have to modify your organ greatly to accommodate all those extra fingers!" Christine exclaimed, truly glad for cheering Erik up.

When their salad and soup came, Erik tried hard not to notice the swiftness with which the plates and bowls were deposited in front of them, just enough for the soup not to spill. Erik focused rather, on how lovely Christine's eyes sparkled with amusement.

Christine started in on her food when she noticed Erik, picking at his own. "What's wrong Erik? Are you not hungry? You've not eaten all day, you have to be famished."

"It's not that," Erik started, "Its just… Never mind. Please eat, dear. You're soup is going cold."

"So is yours," Christine retorted.

After the main course was brought in, it dawned on her. "Erik, why don't you take off your mask? It can't be comfortable for you to try and eat with it on," she said softly.

For a moment, Christine thought that Erik was going to storm out of the room; he tensed so horribly, clenching his hands into fists on the edges of the table. But then, he relaxed them, and sighed. Then he reached up slowly, to lift the mask from his face, but stopped before removing it.

"Are you certain you can stomach to eat your meal while seeing my face?"

Christine gave him a saddened, yet exasperated look, then leaned across the table and slid the mask off his face for him, lying just to the side.

"Wait here," she said, rising to leave the table.

When she returned a few moments later she told him, "You have no need to worry. We won't be disturbed." She gave him a little wink, and resumed her place at the table.

"What did you tell our waiter?" Erik asked out of curiosity.

"Just that we needed a little more… privacy," she said slyly.

Erik just grinned at her daring boldness. But then again, she was a wonderful actress. "You brazen little minx," he teased.

"Well, it worked." She smiled back at him and started in on their delicious meal.

After dinner, they decided upon taking a walk back to the inn rather than taking a cab. It was not too far, and Erik felt the need to get some fresh air to relieve some of the tension he felt during supper. He was still not used to the fact that his face was not a bother to Christine (at least he hoped so) and he felt very naked when his mask was removed in her presence.

They walked down to the rocky shore, listening to the waves crash on the sand and enjoying the chilled breeze that swept Christine's hair back from her face. She snuggled deeper into her cloak, but dearly wished she had brought a warmer one.

"Are you cold my dear?' Erik asked her.

"Just a little," She said.

Erik began to remove his own heavier cloak to wrap around her shoulders.

"No, Erik. You'll be cold without it," she protested.

"I won't let you freeze because I decided we should walk back from dinner."

Christine looked up shyly, "Would it be too inappropriate to share it?"

Erik's heart skipped a beat. What did she just suggest? He was scared, but at this opportunity suggested by her, he was not about to argue. "I don't think that the moon will mind, as he is the only one to see us here."

True to his word, Christine looked about and realized that they were very much alone on the shore. Had it been during the daytime, the beach would have been slightly crowded with travelers and their children.

Erik carefully extended the wing of his cloak with an outstretched arm, to accommodate Christine's small figure under it.

She slowly and awkwardly crept under his cloak, as the warmth enveloped her and his arm gently rested about her shoulder. A sensation of bliss and unsettled nerves overtook her all at once. His warm solid body was so very near her. She could feel his muscles flex and relax under his clothing and his hip lightly bump against hers with the rhythm with which they walked.

Erik's head was reeling at the sensations her body gave off to his. He felt the weight of his arm would crush her if he was not careful to hold her gently; afraid she might break under the strain of his limb. And yet, he wished for nothing more than the chance to hold her tighter. He felt he could not dare to look at her, lest the feelings he felt show in his eyes. What would she think of him when she glimpsed the love and adoration there, as well as the fiery passion that burned beneath the surface of his cool demeanor?

Christine noticed that their pace had slowed considerably. She did not question why, because she felt it too. When they reached the inn, all these pleasurable sensations that overwrought her senses would be over all too soon. She did not wish to relinquish them so quickly.

"Christine?" Erik asked softly.

"Hmm?" she replied, daring to glance up at him.

"What are you thinking?" he dared.

Christine's lips trembled. She could not form her feelings into words. "I don't know," she stammered softly. "What are you thinking, Erik?" she asked.

He could not answer. Could he really tell her that he wished for nothing more than to sweep her off her feet in a kiss; to carry her off to the nearest church and marry her? Erik's heart nearly stopped when she slowly turned to face him.

As though she had read his mind, she softly wound her arms around his waist and he instinctively wrapped both ends of the cloak around behind her in a protective cocoon. She let out a shaky sigh into his chest as he buried his face into her hair. They stood there, silently unaware of anything but one another.

"Oh, Christine," he murmured into her soft curls, "My sweet Christine." His shoulders began to shake with emotion and she felt the wetness of a tear brush her cheek when she moved to rest her chin on his shoulders.

"Shhh," she hushed him, and stroked his hair with her pale hand. "Erik, it's alright."

"Oh, Christine… no one has ever…" he choked out. "Not even my mother… would hold me."

Christine's heart broke when she heard his voice crack with emotion. She embraced him tighter, holding him to her, rocking him back and forth and humming softly into his ear. They stayed like that for some time before Erik finally pulled back. "We should head back. Its very late and its getting rather cold, my dear," he said softly.

Christine nodded and they resumed their walking to the Inn, in silence.

Erik walked her to her door. The rest of the guests were fast asleep and there was no sound but the creaking of the wind in the trees outside. He leaned towards her, tentatively. Her heart fluttered and her lips softly parted in anticipation. Her eyes closed and she leaned forward slightly.

Then she felt his lips brush across her forehead ever so timidly. "Goodnight, Christine," he breathed.

She opened her eyes, "Goodnight, Erik."

He quickly left her and entered his own room, shutting the door swiftly behind him.

A shockwave of nervous relief and disappointment went through her. Christine stood there a moment longer. What had just happened? What had almost happened? He had wanted to kiss her, she was sure, and then at the last minute, he didn't. She went into her own room and quietly closed the door behind her. As she dressed for bed, she wondered to herself about the events of the evening. These emotions inside her confused and scared her, but what scared her the most, was the disappointment she felt when his lips did not meet with hers.


	6. Want and Cannot Have

Erik awoke the next morning reluctantly after a wonderfully vivid dream. In his dream, the evening did not end at that near-kiss, nor did it end with them separating properly into their rooms. He felt his face flush at the memory of what happened in his slumbering fantasy. Then, as abruptly as that familiar lusty ache crept over his loins, the singularly depressing realization that it was nothing more than a dream, slammed him back into the reality of the morning.

He sighed and with the resignation of the weary, began his morning ablutions. He could hear Christine in the adjoining room doing the same. He dressed warmly for he could hear the sea breeze howling against the weathered side of the cozy cottage inn. He could only hope for a repeat of the need for sharing his warmest cloak again today.

His hopes were dashed as he exited to the hall where Christine was waiting for him, dressed equally as warm and with the addition of her thicker wool cloak and gloves. She smiled sheepishly at him and wished him a quiet "Good morning," before familiarly taking his arm to descend the stairs to the main room of the house. Since it was early and the foul wind cropping up was keeping most to their beds late, the breakfast nook was practically deserted, save one or two single travelers eating a quick hot meal before getting an early start on their journey.

Marie was bustling about in the kitchen with a few of her servants. They could hear pots and pans clanging here and there and Marie's familiar voice giving orders to "make sure that doesn't burn," or to "check the coop for more eggs."

Erik and Christine sat at a small weathered table nearest to the fire that was crackling familiarly. Neither of them said a word to the other until after Marie had taken notice of them sitting and came by to ask what they would like to eat. Christine asked for a simple meal of eggs and toast. She smiled up at Marie and added, "Do you still make your own raspberry preserves?"

Marie winked at her and nodded. "I thought you might be asking after that so I opened a fresh jar just for you. There's also the sweet cream butter to go along with it." Marie exclaimed to Erik, who was trying to seem very inconsequential at the table, "Christine and her young friend Raoul used to steal a jar of it when they thought I wasn't going to notice." She chuckled, "I always did notice though, but even if I scolded them for it, it wouldn't have done any good. They would have been into the cheese or butter. It seems I couldn't keep those two out of the pantry when they came to stay. Raoul was always such a hungry boy. I swear he could eat anything I put down in front of him." Marie noticed Erik was not enjoying the recollection as much as Christine, whose eyes were shining with the memories and the embarrassment of the story. She cleared her throat and wiped her hands down her apron and said, "Well it shouldn't be long for your breakfast. I'll get to it then." She turned to leave, and exclaimed, "Oh my! I've prattled on so much I've forgotten to ask what you would like this morning," this directed at Erik.

"Coffee please. Black," Erik replied sullenly.

"Only coffee?" Marie said. She harrumphed, "Not in my kitchen! I'll serve you a good and proper meal for such a blustery day. Only coffee, indeed!" She started barking orders at the servant nearest the kitchen door as she left them to wait.

Christine ducked her head and said to Erik, "I should have warned you about her. Those who don't ask for anything to eat here end up getting fed the most. Marie likes to feed people. Her husband was, well, more than portly." She laughed.

Erik smiled and said, "I'm afraid I am truly not very hungry this morning." He looked down at the table, his fingers following the grain pattern of a knot in the surface.

"I'm sorry she brought him up again," Christine said, guessing at the reason for his lack of appetite.

Erik sighed. "Christine, it's not a subject that I enjoy hearing first thing in the morning on an empty stomach," he replied, sounding like the mention of Raoul left a horrible taste in his mouth.

Christine did not have much to say. She understood his lack of congeniality towards Raoul. She knew that Marie did not bring up the subject deliberately, as she could have no way to know how it affected Erik's mood. She would have to have a private word with the woman later.

Erik, wanting to lighten the mood said, "So, you stole jam when you were a child? I never would have pegged you for a thief."

Christine looked up and saw the mirth in his eyes at the accusation. "I guess I really was a naughty little child back then. What can I say? A girl sometimes has a sweet tooth." she winked at him.

Marie came back out with a tray full of tiny jars, one being full of the raspberry jam. The others contained butter, honey, soft cheese, and an assortment of other spreadable condiments. Erik's eyes nearly bulged out when she came back with a larger tray. On a tiny side of the tray there was Christine's simple breakfast of toast and eggs, but the rest of the tray had piled high, an assortment of pastries, sausages, crisp bacon, freshly baked bread, and at least three types of prepared eggs. She set the load down in front of him and said, "Now if you don't eat at least half of this I'll be disappointed."

Christine giggled at the comparison of her plate to Erik's monstrously sized meal. He looked back and forth between Christine, the heaping plate, and Marie. Incredulity was something even his mask could not hide.

He grabbed a pastry and stuffed it into his mouth, all the while staring at Marie, until, satisfied, she left for the kitchen. Christine picked up her fork and started into her eggs while she watched Erik's best attempts to not turn down the woman's challenge.

"You know," Christine said between bites, "This isn't a competition between you and Raoul to see who has the bigger appetite."

He glared at her while shoveling an omelet into his mouth. What did she know about what was and wasn't a competition. He was competing with the boy on every level he knew existed. If he could somehow impress Christine by raiding this innkeeper's pantry then so be it.

An hour later Erik felt as though he would burst when he climbed into the taxi he hailed. He tried to hide from Christine the fact that he had to loosen the button on his trousers. Never had he eaten such a large meal in his life. Not wanting to be outdone by Raoul or have Madame Beauchamp think he was a stingy eater, he had nearly licked the plate clean of every morsel. It was only once they were seated in the carriage that Christine, her face hidden behind a gloved hand, added, "She forgot your coffee."

Erik had decided that today was not the best day to spend standing about a graveyard ruining their voices with the wind. It had died down a bit since earlier in the morning but it still gusted against the side of the carriage. He ordered the driver to take them into town so Christine could visit the shops she knew.

Christine looked out the window of the carriage and exclaimed, "Francois'!" She smiled, "I used to go there with my father. It was the best toy shop I had ever seen. Most of the toys were too expensive but my father knew the owner so I was allowed to play with some of them. Once my father played at one of their family parties and he requested that his only pay was a doll I had wanted very badly."

Erik leaned forward and tapped his cane handle on the front to alert the driver to stop.

"Erik? Why are we stopping here?" Christine asked.

"Childish though it may be, I want you to go inside and look around and buy yourself something you always wanted as a little girl." he replied.

Her eyes lit up but she protested, "That's silly. I don't have a need for toys anymore. Besides, I still don't have the money, even with my oh-so-extravagant salary as a ballet rat," she replied as she sat back in the seat again.

"Silly it is, and wasteful, perhaps, but I never said that YOU would be the one paying." He held out his coin purse, which was very heavy and fat looking.

She looked at him, skeptical, and then reached for the purse. He helped her down out of the carriage and she turned to enter the shop. Erik stood still at the carriage door.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she queried.

"Humph," he blew. "The last thing I need is to give some child nightmares about me." He leaned against the carriage side, "You go ahead without me. I'll wait here."

She stared at him for a moment more, then with a shake of her head, left him to go look in the shop.

Erik thought about re-entering the carriage to escape the cool breeze that was blowing up his cloak periodically, but it made it more difficult to watch Christine peruse the shop through the front window. He saw her talking with a man inside. He was probably the son of the owner since he gestured towards an old man sitting on a chair in the corner that, through failing eyesight, squinted at her and seemed to recollect who she was. She greeted him with a familiar hug and gestured around the store. While she started looking at objects on the shelves, Erik's attention was drawn elsewhere. Across the street stood a jeweler's shop.

He was drawn to cross the street out of boredom and also to satisfy the cruel fantasy that he might one day have need to visit a jeweler for that one special item of a wedding band. Through the window he could see a young man fidgeting impatiently in front of the counter while an ancient old man was setting a stone with his instruments into a gold band. The young man looked nervous and excited. All the emotions a young groom should have before presenting his beloved with an engagement ring and a promise of marriage. Erik closed his eyes and imagined it were he inside the store, waiting for an eternity for the finishing touches on the most beautiful ring ever created. It would be perfectly set in a delicate web of filigree gold with the tiniest sapphires surrounding a crystal clear diamond. He could imagine getting down on one knee and with shaking hands, placing the ring on Christine's tiny left hand ring finger.

A bell chiming on the door broke him from his reveree as the young man exited, putting a small black box deep into his coat pocket and giving Erik a quizzical look as he passed him onto the street. Erik followed him with his eyes and saw Christine exiting Francois' toy shop, looking for him. He sighed and walked over to meet her and help her back into the carriage. He only half listened as she prattled on about the shop keeper and the toy she bought. She held it up to show him. It was a small music box figurine of a ballerina twirling on a small mirrored stage.

"It was the only practical thing I could think of. I think I am a little old for a doll or a top to spin," she added. She handed the purse back to him and he stared at it sadly.

"… trade all the money in the world for…" she caught him murmur under his breath as he concealed the purse in his cloak pocket.

Sensing his mood had changed since before they stopped she sat back to enjoy the silence and scenery and give him time to pass whatever thoughts were now haunting his brain.

The driver took them through the rest of town, but since the wind was picking up and blowing even more mercilessly than before, Christine suggested to Erik that they take pity on the poor man and pull in someplace warm to get out of the foul weather.

Erik put his head out the side and asked the driver if there was a place they could stop and get something hot to drink. He caught the relieved grumbling of the man as he ducked his head back inside and shuttered the thick curtains. A time later they pulled into the front of a small tavern at the far edge of town. Erik was not very pleased with the seedy appearance of the place, but was just as relieved as Christine and their driver to see a nice steady fire roaring at either end of the tavern hall. Erik gave the man a few heavy coins from his purse and suggested he get himself a mug of hot coffee. Erik knew full well by the weight of the coin he was more likely to warm up with some stiff whiskey or the like instead.

He and Christine pulled up a few chairs close to the fire while the driver saw to the horses outside. A boy came round to take their cloaks and Erik shoved a gold piece in his palm and said in a low voice, "Coffee and privacy please."

The boy's wide eyed stare only lasted for a moment at seeing his mask but then he saw that he held an enormous sum of money in his grubby hand and excitedly raced off behind the bar to fetch a kettle and mugs.

Erik leaned back in his chair and softly groaned as he rolled his shoulders.

"Is anything the matter, Erik?" Christine inquired.

"No. It's just the cold. It makes an old injury complain when the chill gets to my bones," he replied wearily. He did not want to admit that most of the hurt lie in the ache in his chest. 'Today,' he thought, 'has been a rather dismal day so far.'

They sipped their mugs of coffee, grateful for the warmth seeping into their hands. The boy had stared surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye at Erik, but with one dark glare from him, retreated back to the bar where his master was grumbling at him to finish the floors.

Christine tried long and hard to come up with something she could talk about to get Erik's mind off of whatever had upset him. She assumed it still had to do with the mention of Raoul that morning. She knew when he entered one of his moods it was difficult to get him out of it.

"I certainly hope the weather is fair tomorrow," she began. "I would dearly love to show you around more places that I used to visit with my father."

Erik gave her a distracted "Mhmm," as he stared at the popping and sizzling log in the hearth.

Christine sighed, "I know talking about the weather is boring, but I don't know what other subject is blasé enough to tiptoe around what is on your mind."

Erik looked up at her that time. She was staring at him expecting an answer.

"Well since you brought it up, there really isn't any avoiding it I suppose. If I say that 'nothing' is bothering me, you will either insist I elaborate or you will sit back and quietly come up with your own explanation, which may or may not be a correct one."

Christine put her mug down on the small table between them and leaned forward; a very insistent look on her face. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you or are you going to tiptoe around it some more?"

Erik was surprised. She wasn't usually so direct with him.

He sighed. "You know how you were telling me earlier that when you were a little girl, there were many things you wanted badly but just couldn't have?"

She nodded. "Yes. I do."

"My preoccupation is to do with the same predicament, but on a much larger scale and more serious than puppets and playthings," he replied vaguely.

"Meaning?" she questioned.

He did not continue.

"Is there something you want?" Christine asked him.

Erik looked at her and very nearly laughed. Here, sitting across from him was the very thing he wanted the most and could not have, simply because she would not have him. She was not something to be bought or stolen or even negotiated for.

"Yes, there is," he replied sadly. "But there is little hope I will ever have it."

"Erik, if there is anything I can do to give you what you want. You have done so much for me. Name it and it's yours," she responded earnestly.

'You,' he thought.

He choked back the tears that threatened to spill out over his mask. He leaned forward and held her hand in his. "Don't worry yourself about it. I've grown accustomed to doing without."

He sat back in his chair and took up his mug again. Anything to swallow the lump in his throat. She looked sadly back at him.

"Drink, Christine. You're coffee is getting cold."


	7. Reflection and Advice

Christine and Erik spent the rest of the time in the tavern in silence. Christine did not wish to continue prying into his thoughts, as they were obviously painful. She had her suspicions as to what it was Erik wanted so badly but she could not yet bring herself to admit even her own speculation. That would mean confronting her own muddled thoughts and she wasn't ready for that yet. If only Meg were there to confide in. However, she thought, even if she were, what could Meg possibly have to say? Her experiences were even fewer than Christine's regarding situations of emotional confusion and choosing the right thing to do or say in difficult situations. Meg was even younger than she and although Christine admitted to herself that she was naïve and foolish, her friend was even more so.

Erik's assumptions about the driver were right, but not about the means. When they left the front of the tavern to find their driver again, they found him near the stables sharing swigs of something potent out of a flash with the stable-master. No doubt he had simply pocketed the coins Erik had given and resorted to drinking his own brew. The carriage ride back to the inn was uncomfortable in more ways than one. The oppressive silence inside the carriage was heavy and thick and only occasionally broken by Christine's gasps when the carriage wheels jolted from one side to the next. Obviously their driver had more than a few mouthfuls of whatever was in that flask and was having difficulty keeping the vehicle straight on the road. The horses were fighting his direction and they were probably as irritated with their master as the passengers inside.

Back at the inn, Erik helped Christine down and she quickly made her way inside, not wanting to hear the tirade of cussing that came from Erik's mouth at the inebriated man. She had heard better language in a brothel and knew Erik's mood had not improved much.

Inside she waited for him, pacing. He finally joined her but gave a weary sigh and said, "I'd like to be alone for the rest of the day."

She nodded her assent and he passed her to head up the well-worn steps to his room upstairs. She waited until she heard his door quietly close, and then listened as the bolt slid through the latch. She sighed. It was going to be quite some time before he resurfaced. She hoped he would be in a better mood when he did.

She sat in an overstuffed chair by the front window looking out onto the garden. The wind had died down some since earlier but it still blew through the tops of the tallest trees, leaving their swaying branches scattering dry leaves down onto the ground below. Marie startled her as she came through the front room carrying a bundle of laundry.

"Christine my dear, I did not expect to see you back so soon," she said, putting the bundle down.

"It was," she thought of the best thing to say, "not the best day to be out today."

"And where is Monsieur Durand?" she asked.

Christine replied, "He was not feeling so well," then added, "I think you fed him too much this morning and he's suffering from indigestion."

Marie laughed, "I thought that man was going to eat the tablecloth. I never seriously expected him to eat everything I brought him. You'd think he was in a competition," she said. "Well, I don't supposed I can enlist you to help me change the rooms over? That swine in the downstairs suite left a mess."

Christine rose from her chair and said, "Of course you can. You know I actually miss doing this. Remember when I did it because I thought I was helping my father pay for our room and board?" She picked up some of the sheets and pillows. "What I didn't know was that he was just trying to occupy me so he could go into town and have some ale with the other travelers." She laughed at that memory.

"Oh, yes I remember. Of course I did enjoy the help regardless," Marie stated cheerfully.

They entered the room and Christine tsked at the mess leftover from the rude guest. "What a disaster!" she exclaimed, picking up an empty gin bottle from beside the bed.

"Oh I've seen worse. And I've charged more as a result," she replied.

They stripped the sheets from the bed and shook the pillows from their cases after picking up most of the aftermath of a one man party.

Marie surprised Christine by asking, "Now, why don't you tell me what's really going on between you and your maestro."

Christine was about the make up another lie but instead, broke down and said, "How do I even know where to begin?" 'How much should I tell her' she wondered.

Marie smiled gently, "Why don't you first start off by explaining why that man's hackles raise every time I mention the young Vicomte."

Christine thought for a moment and explained, "Erik is, well, jealous of Raoul."

"Jealous you say? Ooh! Do go on!" Marie exclaimed. She was readying herself for a long escapade of gossip.

And with that, Christine dove into the story of how Raoul had re-appeared into her life as a patron to the Opera, but not before Erik had begun teaching her music lessons in secret. She left out the Angel of Music charade because even she was embarrassed to admit that she fell for such a sham.

"That mask," Marie inquired, "Why the need for it?" She was biding her time before asking the juicy question behind the jealousy.

Christine had been ready for that question so she did not hesitate to explain a plausible excuse. "He was wounded a long time ago and is badly scarred. He feels more comfortable going about in public with it on."

"I see," she replied. "And the mask and scars are the reason he taught you in secret?"

"Yes. He didn't want me to reject him as a teacher before he could instruct my voice. He wants to make me a star, you see."

Marie nodded and gestured to continue as she tucked the sheets under the mattress.

"Well, Raoul has always been a bit spoiled. You know because you remember him as a child. He hasn't changed much. He's still the ever positive ray of sunshine and doesn't think there is anything wrong with pursuing me. He doesn't see the stares and hear the whispers behind our backs when we are together, but it makes it increasingly difficult to be around him when I have to deal with the horrid gossip afterward." She sat down on the edge of the newly made bed. "I don't know what to do."

"Well my dear. The first thing you need to figure out is not an answer, but a question."

Christine looked confused, "I don't understand."

"What is the question that burns you every moment of every day? Once you know the question, then you can begin looking for answers and they will tell you exactly what you need to know."

Christine thought long and hard about it as Marie bustled around the room tidying and dusting the furniture.

"Marie?" she started. "Is it possible to love more than one person at a time?"

Marie grinned, "Now we're getting to it!" She sat down next to Christine on the edge of the bed and said, "Of course it's possible. There are all different kinds of love. The real question is which kind of love is the most important to you?"

Christine slouched over, "That, I believe is the problem. I don't know what I need yet."

"Well, let's list the issue out, shall we?" Marie began, "You obviously love Raoul but you aren't sure how much and you also don't know if your social standing will cause more trouble than you care to invite. Am I correct so far?"

Christine shook her head, yes.

"Now your Erik, on the other hand; he loves you more than I bet he's admitted."

"How can you tell? You just met him and don't know anything about him other than he's my teacher."

Marie laughed lightly, "Christine dear, you don't have to be psychic to see that. The tension between you two is palpable and not in a bad way. When you two leave the room I feel the need to open a window and let a cool breeze through."

"Is it that obvious?" Christine asked.

"You obviously like him, at least. Is it just those scars that are stopping you or are there more problems I don't know about?" she asked.

"Erik is," she began, "Like no one I've ever met before. He has some deeply rooted issues from his past and he's entirely devoted to what he loves. His music, his opera, and the architecture he designs. Nothing is done halfway with him. He's the most intense individual I've ever met."

"But?" Marie nudged.

"But he's moody and secretive. I'd love to help him when he's troubled but he clams up. If only I could get to the root of it all I could think of a solution."

Marie gave her an odd smile, "I'm sure you'll think of something."

Christine added, "There is one thing I can do to help him out."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Stop you from overfeeding him," she grinned.


	8. Frustration and Avoidance

Erik lay in his bedroom staring at the ceiling, weighing his thoughts, one against the other. The ache in his chest was hard to ignore so he was playing over the previous evening his mind, trying to forget about the disaster of the morning. They had dined together in private. She had asked the waiter to give them more privacy with the innuendo of what that privacy was for. Had her mind truly thought of him like that, even for a moment? He felt his face flush with the numerous fantasies he conjured up into his head. The restaurant suddenly emptied of all but them. The curtains to their private dinner chamber suddenly turned to a heavy door with a lock. The dishes from their uneaten dinner scattered, breaking to the floor as they passionately shoved them aside to make room on the table for…

He had to stop there. It would never happen.

He rolled over onto his side.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

The steady rhythm of his breathing he timed with his heart beats' slow, methodical tempo.

Think of something else, he thought. Think of something else.

The way her perfume still clung to his cloak from their warm embrace on the walk home. The softness of her body as it pressed against the length of him. Her fingernails creasing the back of his shirt as she clung to him.

He bolted up out of bed, frustrated and feeling too hot in the stuffy room. He pushed the window open and let the cold wind push through the curtains. It wasn't enough. He went to the wash basin and splashed the chill water on his bare face, letting it drip down beneath his collar. He longed to escape, but he did not wish Christine to see him in this state. He did not wish himself to see Christine in this state. He had to control himself. Why did he cruelly replay these unattainable fantasies to himself over and over again, tormenting his frustration?

He knew the answer; because they were all he was likely to ever have with her. Fleeting imagined moments of bliss and fevered dreams of coupling in the dark or wherever else his brain could place the two of them in privacy.

While he toweled his face dry on the soft cloth hanging by the basin, he heard Christine's timid tapping at the door.

"Erik?" she called out softly. "Are you awake?"

Erik did not answer.

"I wanted to let you know that it's nearly suppertime, if you care to join me downstairs," Christine added.

Erik was screaming inside, 'I don't want supper. I want you!' but he was silent and stood still until he heard her footsteps padding away down the hall.

He didn't dare join her for dinner, much less, let everyone else around see him in such a state. He didn't think he could compose himself in time to dine with her. 'It's almost a good thing Marie fed me so much at breakfast,' he thought.

He listened at the door carefully. He could hear Christine's voice chiming in with the usual din of a small crowd in the main room downstairs. He would not be able to get past her without being seen. He looked out the window. It was a very long drop to the ground but luckily there was a tree just close enough, he thought, to take a leap for.

Normally, he was very graceful, but he underestimated the distance and nearly missed his mark. He dropped to the ground after clinging like a desperate cat to the branch, tearing a sleeve and cutting his arm when he rolled back as he hit. He stood and brushed the dust from his clothes. He hoped nobody had seen him for, although the light had faded, it was still enough to discern his person against the whitewashed side of the inn.

He took a deep breath in through his nostrils and smelled the ocean on the breeze. Normally he only felt claustrophobic when there were a lot of people around, but his modest room upstairs was downright oppressive. He swore to himself that Christine would be the death of him, driving him mad.

It was early in the evening and he felt the need for a long walk so he started towards the town. He could see small lights now glowing in the windows of various homes and businesses as people were either coming home for the night, or just getting busy. He remembered passing several taverns along the way. He didn't want any trouble in one of the lesser reputable ones, but neither did he wish to be turned away from a nicer one.

He settled on returning to the one they stopped into earlier that day. Perhaps having seen him in there before would assure no questions asked and no problems. It was a rather long walk to the tavern. He kept the hood drawn far over his face so only his chin could be seen to the casual passerby. As he made his way down the winding paths he paid little attention to the people he encountered. He had only one thing on his mind and he knew the only solution for the evening was to drown the thought into the bottom of a bottle.

He entered the tavern but kept his hood up as he made his way toward a dark corner of the room. His previous place by the fire had been taken up already by a handful of men who looked like they had just finished a day's hard labor and were throwing back a few before heading home to their wives. The same boy who had served them that afternoon came by and recognized him. Erik told him to bring a bottle of brandy and a glass.

"Would you be wanting any supper with that?" the boy asked in a rehearsed tone.

"Not tonight. Just the bottle, please," Erik replied.

"Suit yourself mister," the boy replied and left to fetch a bottle.

Erik didn't feel like dithering with money so he left a more than generous sum on the table and slid it toward the boy in exchange for his brandy.

As he felt the warm heat of the alcohol hit his throat, it spread familiarly through his face and into his muscles. He drank a few glasses in fast succession to numb his senses. Normally he would not resort to such measures. He was not a man to turn to drink often, but when his few other vices of release were nowhere to be had, he made do with what he could find.

He kept his back to the rest of the room, ignoring the bawdy laughter from the men by the fire. He pushed his hood back slightly, not enough for anyone to see his face, but enough that it no longer hid it entirely.

Sometime later, about half a bottle later to be precise, a woman approached his back and tapped his shoulder.

"S'cuse me sir," she said around a cigarette she had in her lips. "Fancy some company tonight?"

Erik's head felt heavy as he turned slightly towards the woman. "I've already got all the company I need this evening," he replied slurring a little as he tapped the bottle with his glass.

She shrugged her shoulders and stepped away towards the bar. The men by the fireplace had been watching her proposition Erik. One of them had caught a glimpse of his mask. He nudged his counterparts and started asking them in a not so subtle voice, "Did you see that? The freak in the corner thinks it's a party! Look, he's wearing his costume. Let's go see what the occasion is?" He elbowed his friends in the ribs and gestured towards Erik's table in the corner.

Erik heard the commotion and the men's comments and pressed his eyes shut hard, shaking his head, 'not tonight,' he thought. He knew what was coming next so before the man could clamp his rough hand on Erik's shoulder to spin him around for a better look, Erik turned to face them and lifted his hood back onto his shoulders.

They were not expecting this and took a step back. They could see the menace in his eyes as he coldly stared them down. He knew he was in no condition to fight. Let alone fight three men while every one of them was too far into their cups.

"Get a good look gentlemen," he said through clenched teeth. "Get your eyeful now, because it's all you're going to get."

Two of the men started to back away, clearly not expecting Erik to be ready for a confrontation. The third stayed where he was and even took a step closer. He stupidly leaned on the table and stated, "That's a pretty mask you've got there. Let me guess. You wear it because so stinkin' ugly!" He guffawed at his own wit but was cut off by Erik's reply.

"Actually, I wear it so that when they find the bodies, the witnesses can't identify me," Erik said with a grim smirk.

That unsettled all of them and this time they all backed away. The tavern keeper noticed what was going on and came over to settle things.

"What's going on here? Louie? You causing trouble again? And you there!" he gestured toward Erik, "What's the meaning of all this? There's to be no brawling in my pub! Why don't the lot of you clear out of here and go fight in the streets if that's what you're after tonight."

Erik sighed and flipped an extra coin onto the table and said, "I was just leaving. I'd hate to leave bloodstains on your freshly washed floors." He grabbed his bottle of brandy and gave a hard look at the boy who was eavesdropping behind the counter. He saw the boy gulp and the master of the house stepped aside for him to pass.

The man he called 'Louie' was loudly protesting that he wasn't trying to start any trouble and he was just having a little fun. Erik didn't hear any more after that. The door shut loudly behind him and he stepped out into the quiet street. Apparently, the threat to make them leave only applied to him.

It was several hours later when he finally stumbled into the Inn of the Setting Sun. He attempted to make his way quietly up to his room, but apparently his ears were as numb as the rest of him. He got to his door, and was confronted by a very worried and disgruntled Christine. She stood in her nightshift with her hair in braids and her arms were crossed over her chest.

"Erik? Where have you been? I've been worried sick all evening!" Christine said as he tried to brush past her.

"I went out for a little fun," he replied, thinking it a witty remark.

"Fun? What are you talking about? You reek of alcohol, and," she noticed the tear in his sleeve and the dried blood from the scrape on the branch, "is that blood? My god, Erik what have you been doing?"

Her irritation turned suddenly to concern and she pushed the door to his room open. He stumbled in towards his bed and fell across it. She filled the wash basin with fresh water and moved it to the bedside table. He lay there feebly trying to ward off her attempts to see the cut on his arm. He did not succeed. She managed to push the sleeve up past his elbow and examined the wound. After cleaning it with a damp cloth she decided it was not bad enough to need bandaging. It was mostly dirty from his fall.

She sat back on her heels and sighed as she studied her inebriated teacher. He was in and out of consciousness and laying in a very uncomfortable position. With the practice of having done many times for her father when he was too weary to do so himself, she removed Erik's boots and placed them on the floor and lifted his feet onto the bed. He came to and stared at her with lazy eyes.

"You're so beautiful, Christine," he mumbled.

She nodded at him, slightly amused now.

"I could make you so happy, Christine. My sweet Christine," he babbled. Christine was hardly able to understand him for the mask had slipped down to partially cover his mouth. She leaned over and slipped it off his face so he could breathe easier.

"Yes yes, Erik. I know. Hush and try to get some rest," she said.

"Christine?" he asked, his eyes glazed with his drunken stupor.

"Yes, Erik?" Christine humored him.

"If I were handsome, would you kiss me goodnight?" he asked.

Even though he was not truly in his right mind; she knew he was not or he would never ask such a question so openly; she was not sure what kind of an answer to give him or if he would even remember it in the morning. She studied his face. It was still not easy for her to look at but it certainly did not cause the same shock it once did seeing it.

Before she could give an answer, his breathing became heavier and more deeply drawn. She exhaled a long breath and with a timid unsure, leaned over and kissed his bare forehead.

"Goodnight Erik, "she whispered then blew out the candle and quietly crept to her own room.


	9. Sunshine and Clouds

The next morning Erik awoke to find the birds were chirping directly next to his ear, very loudly. He blinked his eyes open and felt the sticky cotton dryness of his tongue like a dead weight in his mouth. The sunshine through the window was bearing down on his face like an open flame and the birds he could have sworn were on his pillow, were actually outside in the large tree.

He groaned and tried to sit up. His feet hit the cold wood floor with a thud that resounded in his aching head. Throb, throb, throb, throb, went the pounding resonance of his own pulse. 'Scratch brandy off the list for awhile,' he thought.

He realized that it was fairly late into the morning. His timepiece was still in his pocket and he slipped it out to look. It was dead after having forgotten to wind it before he went to bed.

That thought brought another one to his aching brain. How had he gotten to bed? He traced his memories back of leaving the tavern and spending a great deal of time stumbling around in the dark looking for the inn. He tried to remember anything after that but it was all muddled. He looked around the room and noticed the wash basin next to the bed with the used cloth still soaking in it, tinged pinkish brown. Then he noticed his arm had been cleaned.

Christine. He suddenly remembered that she had been waiting for him when he found his way to his room. She must have stayed and helped him into bed.

What had he said? What had he done? He couldn't remember anything. With a silent curse he rose to splash some water on his face and wash the stagnant flavor of brandy from his mouth. If he thought he dreaded going down to face her last night, then today would be even worse.

As the water hit his face he suddenly realized his mask was off! Had he taken it off? Surely Christine would not have done such a thing. That would have involved touching his face. He saw it resting on the bedside table, next to the cloth she had used to clean his wound. Oh, how he wished his head weren't pounding so and that he could remember the evening. He felt so unprepared for what he might have to apologize to her for.

He took his time dressing and cleaning up. If he had to go downstairs and face the music, so to speak, he was going to do it looking his best at least.

The house was fairly quiet. Most of the travelers staying there had either checked out and moved on, or left for the day for town. He heard musical laughter coming from the garden and followed it out. The sunlight was doubly cruel to his eyes and he squinted from under a shading hand and saw Christine with Marie picking vegetables from the garden and placing them in a basket.

"Well good morning!" Marie exclaimed, amusingly. "And how are we feeling this morning, or should I say, afternoon?"

So he had slept late. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Nearly one o' clock," Christine informed him as she picked up the basket.

He rubbed his temples and followed them both back inside. Marie directed them back toward the kitchen and gestured for him to sit down.

"So what was it?" she asked.

"Beg your pardon?" he replied.

"Gin? Whiskey? Bourbon?"

"Oh, it was brandy," he mumbled.

Marie smirked as she got a bottle down from the cupboard. "A brandy man huh?" She poured a mouthful into a mug and topped it off with fresh coffee. "Here," she handed him the mug, "Hair of the dog."

"Thank you," he said. He hoped the coffee would help with his head but he grimaced at the all too familiar flavor mixed into it.

After a few draughts, he said, "I apologize for last night. I hope I didn't disturb anybody when I came back here."

Marie shook her head as she dried her hands on her apron, "I didn't hear you myself, but this is an inn and you aren't the first guest to come stumbling back in the wee hours of the morning."

Christine was rather viciously chopping up a carrot behind Marie. Erik could sense she was avoiding him.

Marie eyed her and noticed Erik's gaze. "Well, I think I'll leave you to the stew, Christine, if you think you can manage." Christine nodded. "I'll go change out your room M. Durand."

"Thank you," he said.

Christine knew that Marie was giving them time alone on purpose and she partly wanted to strangle the woman. She didn't know what to say or what Erik remembered and she still didn't know whether to scold him for getting so fall-down drunk or coddle him for his horrific hangover.

"Christine," Erik began. "I must apologize for my actions last night." He paused, "I hope I didn't do, or say, anything that upset you."

Had Christine heard right; he did not realize what he had said? "The only thing that upset me was that I was worried for you. I thought perhaps you were truly ill. Then I felt very stupid when I finally entered your room and saw that you had gone. I had been talking to your door periodically for hours all night."

Now Erik was surprised, "You did?"

"Yes," she said as she put the diced vegetables into the pot to boil. "I kept asking if you were alright and telling you that I could be there to listen if you wanted to talk about anything that was troubling you."

"Christine, I'm so sorry," Erik said.

"It's alright," she replied, now relieved and amused. "You don't remember anything at all?"

"No. I just remember coming inside and that you were there and seemed greatly perturbed with me."

She smiled at him and said, "How's your head?"

"Better now that I've had this," he raised his mug towards her.

"Good," she said. "Today is gorgeous and I want to go out and enjoy it."

"Oh goodie, more sunshine," he joked. "I can only hope for some clouds."


	10. Sand and Swimming

Christine recommended that Erik go up and change his clothing, as she wished to walk along the beach. His current attire, although dashing, was improper for the outing and probably too expensive to chance ruining in the sand. She was already wearing a simple pale linen gown that came up to her neck, but not past it; ideal for keeping her warm, but not too heavy to allow her to feel the ocean breeze through the breathable cloth. She longed for the simplicity of her childhood garments. Oh, what it would feel like to be able to wear a short dress and run barefoot in the sand without seeming inappropriate to others. She recalled how much fun it was to chase seagulls and get close to the waves before squealing back up the shore to escape getting caught in a cold wave of seawater.

Erik's head was marginally better by the time he descended. He was dressed in light trousers and wore a matching vest over a loose cotton shirt. His tan boots were very comfortable and he was glad for the thought to pack them. There was no need to change his mask. He wore his one of soft calf leather that had been bleached almost white. It was the most inconspicuous and the most comfortable. He prayed he would not need to use his emergency backup mask, as it had not yet been properly broken in and rubbed his face in places causing sores. How he hated the need for a new mask, but like every other accessory, they tended to wear out over the years.

Erik joined her outside. She was carrying a picnic basket under one arm and a parasol in the other hand. He offered to take the basket then offered his arm to her.

As they walked down the path towards the rocky cliffs that led down to the beach, Erik marveled at the normality of the occasion. He imagined with his minds eye, how they must look to any other passing couple. Two well-dressed people, arm in arm, enjoying a stroll in the sunlight off to share a picnic on some secluded stretch of the beach. He smiled and was suddenly very comfortable to be out in public.

Not that there was much public. Some children and their family were playing on the pasture next to the cliffs. A little boy squealed as his older brother tried to catch him and hold him down to tickle him. He watched Christine smile as they passed the family to head down the steps cut into the outcropping that led down to the sand below.

Erik had never envisioned having children. You had to have a wife, or at the very least, a mistress, to make that a possibility. He suddenly saw a new fantasy surrounding his impossible dream of wedding Christine. He glanced down at her slight figure and imagined her belly swelled up with his child and how she would glow with happiness. The idea struck him so suddenly that he was shocked to find that it made him want her even more.

'Great,' he cursed himself, 'yet another thing to impossibly desire.'

They could hear the crashing of the waves below even louder now as they approached the shore. The beach was relatively deserted. It was not yet late spring when the hoards of vacationing travelers visited the ocean. Erik let his arm drop and dared to hold her hand in his. He led her down the steps, marveling at the warmth of her hand in his.

Christine followed Erik and she was careful not to slip. Holding his hand in front of her felt so comforting and strong; he would not let her fall. When he faced away from her and she was unable to see his mask, she caught herself admiring his physique. His frame was strong and lithe like a dancers'. He walked with purpose and grace and she felt herself blush when she wondered what he might look like with his shirt off. Would he resemble the other male dancers at the Opera? It was years ago when she saw her first naked chest of a man when she joined the ballet corps. The company of the theater she learned was none too shy when it came to partial nudity. It was necessary considering the costume changes, and some of the costumes themselves left little to be imagined.

Her face flushed but she managed to compose herself before Erik turned around to look at her.

"Shall we find a place to picnic?" Erik offered.

"Yes, please," she replied, and followed him down the beach.

Later they sat on the blanket she had packed into the basket and dined on cold meat, cheese, fresh apples, and drank a glass of wine each. She lay back to stare up at the sky with her hands crossed behind her head.

Seeing Christine lying like this nearly drove Erik out of his mind. Her small delicate breasts pressed up against the fabric of her dress as she breathed out a sigh. Her dark lashes brushed against her cheek as she closed them and soaked up the rays of the sun on her face. It was all he could do to refrain from lying down next to her, or for that matter, on top of her. He turned away from her and stared out at the ocean's vast expanse.

"Do you know what I wish?" Christine inquired, breaking the silence.

"Hm? What is that?" Erik said, not looking her way.

Christine rolled herself onto her side propping her head up with her hand and leaning on her elbow, "I sometimes wish I didn't have to be a lady and do what's proper. Is that wicked of me?"

Given Erik's current state of mind, his thoughts about what she might be suggesting were completely off. He shook his head and said, "What do you mean?" hoping she might elaborate more.

She smiled sheepishly, "If it were up to me, I would say to hell with propriety. I would tear off this ridiculously long dress and fling it into the sea, and then go chasing after it in only my undergarments, if I did not possess a swimming frock."

Erik stared at her incredulously. Who was this girl and where did his innocent little Christine go? His lust got the better of him. "Go right ahead then," he tried not to sound serious even though the devil on his one shoulder told him otherwise, "There's nobody around to see but me, and I've seen you in worse at the Opera."

She suddenly sat up and said, "You're serious?" Her face was wide-eyed with shock that he would suggest such a thing.

Erik's grin fell from his face when he realized she had been the one joking with him. "No! No, of course I'm not serious!" Oh but he was, he thought. Only in his wildest dreams would such a thing…

He realized she was grinning from ear to ear.

And she was removing her shoes and stockings very quickly.

'No, she can't be,' his inner voice protested with disbelief.

Before he could stammer out a comprehensible protest, Christine's dress was being tossed down to the sand and she was racing out towards the waves wearing only her petticoats, chemise, and corset.

He watched her as her legs kicked up the water and sand and she squealed at how cold it was. Even the chastest of men could not have refrained from watching this scene. He felt the tightness growing in his groin and a throbbing pain followed. This was simply maddening. Had they been young lovers out for a tryst he would have joined her, cold water or no. Christine's brazen adventure was short lived however. A rather large wave took her by surprise and knocked her down into the water in front of her. She fell onto her hands and knees in the surf and came up choking and gasping on the seawater she swallowed.

"Christine!" Erik cried. He leapt to his feet and raced out to help her from the water. She was just managing to get to her feet again when he strode into the foamy sea, boots and trousers and all, soaking himself to the waist.

He flung his arm around her shoulders and walked her back toward the picnic blanket. She was still choking on the water that she spit out but she was laughing at the same time.

They walked up the shore away from the waves at least a dozen steps before Erik looked down at her. She was smiling and staring up at him. "My hero," she said.

He barely heard a word of it. His gaze was fixed on the blushed rounds of her nipples staring out at him through the thin wet material of her chemise.

She followed his gaze down and very suddenly tore herself away from him to face the other way, covering her chest with her hands and attempting to pull the dripping fabric away from her body. He heard her low swear, a word no lady should ever utter.

Erik swore his heart had stopped beating until he heard the whoosh of blood rush into his head. Under the mask he must have turned ten shades of red before he managed to compose himself and stoop to retrieve the blanket. He shook it out to free it of the sand that clung to the underside and half flung it around Christine's shoulders.

She continued to stare at the sand in front of her in disbelief at her own actions and embarrassment. It was some time before she turned around. Erik stood behind her, waiting. The man was staring at her, the tension etched into every ounce of his body. She was not sure who was more embarrassed. She suddenly felt so ashamed of herself. 'What had come over her?' she wondered.

Erik said nothing to her. He finally moved to bend down and pick up her soiled dress from the ground and brush it off. He held it out reluctantly it seemed to her, then turned around and murmured, "Let me know when you've dressed."

Christine shoved herself into the linen garment, wincing as the material pulled against her salty skin. She was sure the dress was ruined now. Suddenly the sunlight beaming down on them seemed to mock her momentary freedom and childish behavior. How she wished it were raining to blend her wet clothing in with everybody else's. She prayed they would pass few people on the way back to the inn.

Erik gathered up their things in the basket and picked up Christine's shoes. He started walking toward the steps on the cliff and Christine silently followed after him.


	11. Eavesdropping and Release

Erik dared not speak the entire way back to the inn. His feelings threatened to crush him from inside. He mustn't think of Christine the way he was thinking of her. It was treacherous. He was already walking a fine line bringing her out here. Then he remembered why he had brought her out to the coast. He wanted to get her mind off the Vicomte and all the other distractions of the Opera. He wanted to be the center of her attention for at least a week or possibly even more. He wanted to see just how far he could push their relationship's tenuous threads before they would either break or pull tighter.

But not like this. Not in the way the tension was straining him now. He could never lose control. He loved her with every breath he took and that was his reason for being with her so far from all they both knew. His intentions were not to lure her away so he could take advantage of her, if such a thing were even possible. But it was getting increasingly difficult to tread that line. If he ever crossed it, God help them both, he would not be able to ever turn back, nor forgive himself. He would have all of her or he would die trying, but only if she wished it.

The past few days had already given him more tidbits of hope than he ever dreamed would be thrown his way. He was now truly wondering what was going through Christine's head. Was she completely naïve and did not know what she did to him, or was she a vixen in disguise of an innocent girl, sent to torment and tease him until he finally snapped? No, she was too young to conceivably do something like that, and to what end? She had Raoul pandering after her like a lovesick dog. He was young and rich and had the lifestyle most girls dreamed of marrying into. What did he have to offer her? Money he had in plenty, there was no question of wealth even if it was not reflected socially. He was nearly twice her senior though and as ugly as sin. Of course there was his music. He was not cruel enough to accuse her of using him to gain fame. That was something he had sort of pushed her into. He didn't understand it. He was always so sure that he would never stand a chance, but her attitude toward him the last few days gave him the courage to push their relationship even farther. How far could he let things go before he either destroyed what he had built between them and would she ever allow him to claim her?

These questions and more swirled around Erik's head until they reached the inn. Christine brushed past him in her damp clothes. She paused at the top of the stairs to turn and ask Erik if he would send Marie or one of the other maids up to help her change. He paused to reflect that she did so with the air of feigned dignity. He waited in the main room downstairs until he saw Marie pass by and directed her up to Christine's room. The lecher in himself wanted to go up and eavesdrop through the thin walls. Erik was many things but he was not a fool and he suspected that Christine and the old woman talked when he was not around, perhaps even about him. Curiosity got the better of him this time. He waited long enough downstairs but was increasingly aware of his own need to change his clothing. With a quiet step he crept past the door to her room and entered his own, shutting the door without a sound.

Upon entering her room upstairs, Christine sank into a chair in her damp and soiled clothing and hid her face in her hands. 'Why am I acting like this?' she wondered to herself. She supposed it was because she got caught up in the moment in a place of some familiarity to her childhood but getting soaked to the skin as a child in a playtime frock was one thing. Getting drenched in ladies underclothes in front of the man who was her teacher and…

And what, she wondered? He was certainly her friend, but lately she felt that the line between friendship and suitor had been crossed marginally more than once. Her confusion was genuine now. Did she love him? She knew she had loved the fantasy of the Angel of Music all that time he taught her. She had grown to love him as a friend in a harsh and cruel world of the spotlight at the Opera. But more recently she felt something changing. A mingling of the two loves; only this time it was no fantasy she was dealing with, but a man of flesh and blood.

He already admitted that he loved her. There was certainly no hiding that fact. But what that love meant to him she did not know or understand. Did he love her for her voice and what she added to his masterpieces? Did he love her the way Raoul professed to love her, innocent and sweet with kisses for the back of her hand? No, she thought, he was far too passionate for that. He was, dangerous; but not in a way that she feared for her safety, but in a way that threatened to consume them both in his passion. The look in his eyes when he saw her bosom peeping out through the wet cloth of her chemise frightened her. He looked downright hungry. Starving would be a better word, she thought. He had been unable to take his eyes off her, even after she covered herself with the blanket and the fire in that gaze ignited something deep inside her, making her all too aware of just how little she was wearing and how it clung to her dancer's body. It smoldered there still, a flame lit deep down inside her and she knew it was not her embarrassment of the situation that made her follow him back in silence, but the sensation he awoke in her slumbering virginal body.

She heard a knock and Marie called out that she was coming in. The woman tsked at Christine's sodden mess of an outfit and with her hands on her hips asked, "Now what's the explanation behind this? Monsieur Durand is downstairs and dripping on the rug from the waist down, and here you are looking as ragged as a half drowned kitten."

"I decided to go for a walk in the surf and fell in," Christine said as Marie helped her out of the dress. "Erik went in after me, though it was hardly needed."

Marie took another look at her disheveled appearance and the damp chemise that still revealed her upturned breasts through it. "Now I think I understand why the poor man looks crazed. Did you stop to think what you are doing to him?"

Christine, already ashamed, dipped her head lower and said, "You think I did this on purpose don't you?"

"Of course not! I know you better than that. But my dear," she continued as she unlaced the corset for her, "No matter what your relationship may be to him, he is only a man and you have to be careful." She released her from the hated heavy thing and lay it across the back of her chair to dry. "Men have only so much restraint for such temptation before they take what they need or they go mad."

"Take what they need?" Christine asked, "Surely you don't suggest he would lose control and take advantage of me?"

Marie wrung the water from the chemise and tossed Christine a towel to dry off her naked body. "I don't know your friend at all so I can't say what he would or would not do, but I've seen my fair share of what madness can drive a man to."

"He would never hurt me. He's admitted to me that he loves me," Christine said, defending Erik to her old friend.

In the next room, Erik had entered the room. He pressed the side of his head as hard as he could to the thin wallpaper, straining to hear the conversation clearly.

"He has?" Marie exclaimed. "You never told me that! You wicked girl, how dare you keep such a juicy tidbit from me!" Obviously the more scandalous the gossip the better for the old innkeeper.

"Yes," she nodded her head.

"And what do you feel for him? Are you in love with him too?" Marie gave her a querying smile.

Erik's breath caught in his throat. His heart was beating too loudly and he was sure they could hear it through the wall. 'Please say yes,' he prayed.

Christine wrapped a robe around herself, tying the belt into a knot at her waist. "I don't know."

Erik's heart fluttered. Damn, he thought.

Then he heard Christine add, "Yet."

He held his breath again.

Christine asked Marie, "Is it a sin to, imagine certain things?"

"Imagine things?" Marie was perplexed.

"Er, you might say, fantasize."

Erik's heart skipped a beat and he thought he would die when he heard his beloved innocent Christine say that word out loud. But then, was she talking about Raoul? He had entered the conversation too late to know. Oh why had he stayed downstairs for so long? He cursed himself again and again as he listened in disbelief at what his ears were capturing.

Marie laughed out loud, "My dear, when you're as old as I am, you come to realize that many things you think are a horrid sin when you are young turn out to be one of the best and most worthwhile pastimes. If I was going before St. Peter and the worst thing on my record was my secret admiration a man's physique, you might say they would be praising Hallelujah for my lack of detrimental marks."

Christine gave out a little laugh. "I suppose it isn't the worst thing in the world."

Marie shook her head as she gathered up the bundle of wet clothing to launder, "No, not the worst thing, but you had better make up your mind on the matter of how you feel sooner rather than later. Your teacher may be a gentleman but you've got him wound so tight it's no wonder why he drank himself into oblivion last night."

Erik's head reeled and he felt the room spin around him. So she had been talking about him! Oh dear sweet Jesus she said she had fantasized about him! To what degree? He fell to the bed panting. He felt he couldn't catch his breath and then realized he was breathing far too hard and he was sweating. Oh what did this mean now? What did it change? Was he better off not hearing their conversation because now a few crucial threads holding back his self control had just snapped? If he thought she desired him too, there would be no restraint left to prevent him from taking her into his arms to be carried away to his bed.

No! He must not ruin everything he had worked so hard to set in place. He dared not ruin the trust she had in him. If he lost control, what would she think of him? A horrible man whose self proclaimed 'love' began and ended in his trousers?

He tore the clothing from his body, struggling to get the seawater soaked pants down his legs. He had to get free! He had to get release! His body felt it was on fire and his ears burned in the heat of it. He desperately wanted to do the fastest and most assured act to feel that release but he knew it would not be enough and with Christine so close in the room next to his he would not risk her accidentally witnessing that. He was nearly desperate enough to go back into town and find the first prostitute that would grant him entrance to her bedchamber, but his long standing oath to himself never to sully his own pride by doing so prevented him; and if Christine were to find out there was no forgiving him for that. He threw on a fresh pair of pants and a shirt and grabbed the only thing in the room he knew would take away his torment.

The front door slammed shut behind him as he tore across the pasture towards the cliffs as nightfall crept over the horizon. The violin in his hands was warm and familiar, curved like the body of the woman he dared not caress with such abandon. He opened the case as he ran, letting it fall to the long dry grass at his feet and began furiously stroking the bow across the taunt strings swiftly. He played his Don Juan to the rising moon, his fingers dancing of the strings and the bow sawing faster and faster. He played the notes of passion and seduction, of love and carnal lust, of secrecy and forbidden desires. All the emotions he was feeling came spilling out like a festering sore that burned his soul. He clenched his eyes shut and played faster and harder, willing the music to drive him to exhaustion. The strings on his bow began to fray and break under the pressure and speed he forced them with, releasing the tension in them. The pulse increased into one long aching wail that his own voice cried out to match in the glowing moonlight then he let his arms fall to his sides and he sank to his knees on the rocky ground. His breath came in gasping sobs and he cradled his precious instrument to his chest and lay there for a very long time. His mind was incredibly tired now. He realized he must have played for quite some time since it was fully dark outside and the chill was starting to ache his bones. He gathered up his bow and violin and tread back to find the case where he dropped it. Wearily, he made his way back to the inn, not even looking to see if Christine was still awake, he dropped into bed and promptly fell asleep.


	12. Epiphany and Distance

Christine's heart thudded in her chest. She would never be able to sleep now. Marie was helping her dress when she heard Erik's bedroom door crash open and his heavy footsteps run down the stairs and out the front door. With a dreadful feeling sinking deep into the pit of her stomach she knew he must have overheard them talking. How much had he listened in on? What would he think of her now? Her shame felt double fold now for the thoughts and feelings she had been experiencing. She felt no better than a cheap harlot who sold her innocence away. Erik had once told her that it was her virtue that he both adored and protected, once even referring to Raoul as 'a typical spring bull ready to mount the freshest young calf come to heat'. He did not know that Raoul had never done more than dare to kiss her hand, but she knew with a flush of disgust that the hardness in his pants when he pressed himself too close as he embraced her told her that he wished to do otherwise. It felt somehow wrong for him to want her like that. She had never been kissed, not in the way that lovers kiss anyhow. Did she want that from Raoul? He was handsome no doubt, but she had known him for so long that he felt almost brotherly to her.

Erik was dangerous, on many levels. She knew that already. He hinted that somewhere in his past he had needed to defend himself more than once. His music threatened to crush her beneath its weight. She knew he wanted her with an intensity and wholeness she did not imagine to be possible. At first she was too naïve to see he wanted her for more than her music, but little by little he revealed his true feelings towards her until she finally realized what that raw look of hunger in his eyes meant. She knew enough of men from the warnings of Mme. Giry and the other older women working at the opera that 'men are only after one thing'. Erik was never after just one thing, though. He was after everything once he decided he wanted something. He would have it all, and that thought frightened her, because she could not answer her own question; did she want him to want her wholly?

She had stayed inside her room for awhile after hearing Erik leave but finally went downstairs to have a small supper. Her appetite left her only able to stomach a few bites. Now she didn't know if it was the hunger or the butterflies in her stomach were worse. After dusk, she did not know when Erik would be coming back or where he had gone to. She went outside to get some fresh air and try to clear her mind. Instead she got something much unexpected. She heard the wailing of a violin being played faintly on the wind. She had never heard this particular tune, but she recognized the undertones of Erik's masterpiece being played into the night. She followed the sound down the hill until she could make out Erik, standing at the cliff's edge, playing his precious violin at a maddening speed. The music was, intoxicating. She had never heard anything like it. Nothing she knew had ever sounded so incredibly, what was the word she groped after? Never heard anything so full of, what? Heartache? Passion? The music was violent on the surface but the harmony contained all the emotion she felt welling up inside her as she gazed upon Erik, playing his soul to the night. She realized with a start, "My god, he's so incredibly beautiful," she whispered out loud. She saw him very clearly now. She looked at him and did not see and Angel of Music, nor her teacher, and not the frightening Opera Ghost. She saw Erik, as a man, and he was beautiful.

And she could have him if she dared.

The thought made her tremble with the certainty of it. Did she have the courage to tame such a magnificent and overwhelming being? She heard him cry out as the song came to a climactic ending and did not wish to be caught spying on him. She knew this music was his most cherished and he had never offered to play it for her; he said it would change her in ways he would be powerless to stop. And he was right, it had.

Christine rolled over on her side to look out the window at the night sky. She needed to be away from him to think, to attempt to make a decision. At the opera house they were apart often enough that she could clear her head between liaisons. But here, away from everything and in such close quarters for so many days she felt overwhelmed. Tomorrow, she decided, she would visit her father's grave, alone.

She hardly slept that night and rose before the sun had peeked over the horizon. The sky outside was tawny and pink with the fresh morning when she left the inn for her walk. Marie was already up and starting her day in the kitchens. She packed Christine some food and gave her a fresh end of a loaf with raspberry preserves for her to eat as she walked. Christine asked Marie to give Erik a note which she quickly penned down onto a small piece of paper and folded over twice.

"Mind if I peek?" Marie joked, pretending to unfold it.

Christine raised her eyebrow at her and gave her a look that was obviously a 'no'.

"Alright, alright," she laughed and tucked the note into her apron. "As soon as he rises I will give it to him. Please, do be careful today. I wish you were taking a horse to ride at least."

"Marie, thank you for the offer, but I would prefer to walk to the cemetery. I know it's a long way, but it will give me time to," she paused, "think things over."

Marie gave her a knowing look and then hugged her goodbye and went back to rolling out the dough for her pastries.

Christine began walking along the dusty road toward the cemetery. She knew it would take her most of the morning and possibly into the afternoon to get there but she was thankful for the excuse to get away from Erik for a day. She only hoped she would have a better grip on her feelings and thoughts by the time she returned that evening.

Back at the inn, Erik awoke feeling nearly as groggy as the morning before when the brandy was doing a tap dance on his head. He felt exhausted still. Playing his Don Juan, especially the theme for the love scene, drained him entirely. He was glad for the distraction. It was still early and he hoped Christine would have gotten over her embarrassment of the day before when he made his way down to the dining room.

Marie greeted him with a nod of her head, her arms in flour up to her elbows. He sat at the small table next to the window and looked out; disappointed to see Christine had not arrived ahead of him. He would of course tell her, that yesterday at the beach was not a big deal and she shouldn't worry herself any more about it. He wanted more than anything to see her like that again, but not if it meant having to go through another evening like that.

Marie brought out a pot of coffee and a mug on a tray, along with Christine's letter. "She asked me to give this to you," she said, handing it to him. "Is there anything else you want this morning? I won't force another breakfast on you like the one you had the other day." She winked at him.

"No, thank you," he said, now preoccupied and curious about Christine's note. When Marie left the room, he feverishly unfolded the note and read:

Dear Erik,

Please excuse my absence today. I have gone to visit my father's grave to pay my respects. I sincerely hope you understand that I wished to go alone. Forgive me. I will see you when I return.

Yours always,

Christine

Erik was sorely disappointed to know she had gone on without him. He was tempted to follow her along but her wishes for a day by herself were a mutual relief. He needed time to compose himself and come to grips with the unforeseen possibilities that had come about in the last few days. He re-read her closing of 'Yours always' twice before he tucked the note away in his pocket.

He finished his coffee and after a second thought, begged Marie for one of her freshly baked pastries.

"Couldn't resist them?" Marie smirked as she handed him two of them. "See, I knew you were hungry."

He was, having not eaten a bite since the tumultuous picnic yesterday afternoon. He was suddenly at a loss of what to do. Boredom was rarely a fate he suffered, but at home he had his music and the opera to occupy his mind. Without Christine there, his day was now a void of possibilities and countless hours to fill, and there was nothing he could think to do.

Whether it was boredom or the fact that his dreams last night had been vivid replaying of the overhead conversation, he took a dare and went into town to visit the little jeweler's shop. As he entered, the bell overhead the door tinkled, announcing his presence to a man behind the counter. He was not the same ancient old gentleman Erik had seen in the shop previously. He was tall and lanky, dressed impeccably in a finely tailored suit and had a thin, wiry mustache underneath a long pointed nose, which the man was looking down at a newspaper. He glanced up when he heard the bell and saw Erik's person dressed in clothing even finer than his own. He tossed the newspaper down onto the counter.

"Good morning sir! How may I assist you?" he exclaimed greedily.

Erik pushed the hood back from his head, revealing his mask and the man in front of him took a sudden step back. "You're here to rob me, aren't you? Here, take the jewels!" He cried out and backed away behind the counter like a coward.

Erik expected this sort of reaction, having experienced it before, "I'm not here to rob you, although I do expect a fantastic deal since you've now treated me so rudely," he said, very irritated.

His shock at Erik's response made him stammer and finally call out, "Father," to the man in the back room. He quickly made his way back there and began giving an explanation to him that Erik could only make out the tone of his voice.

"I don't care what he's wearing you young fool. You don't treat a customer that way," Erik heard an aged voice say loudly. The old man entered the front of the shop slowly, his shoes scuffling on the wooden floor. He squinted at Erik as if to discern whether he was actually wearing the mask his son told him about.

"Pay no attention to my son," He apologized to Erik, "He's an idiot who thinks too much of himself."

Erik tried hard not to agree with him out loud.

"Now then, what can I help you find today; something for yourself or perhaps, your wife?"

Erik shook his head, still not knowing if he dared purchase what he came in for.

"Ah, then it's a young woman you wish you buy for," the shopkeeper chuckled.

Erik found his voice, "Yes, a very special young woman."

"I see," he replied, and then added, "You know there was really no need to wear a mask, we do know how to be discreet about our customer's orders. You wouldn't be the first man to fear his lady came inquiring whether or not their sweethearts purchased something for them." He wiped down the glass case as he spoke, "Most women get their hopes up and drive a man crazy, then they get a ring when they least expect it." He added, "You are here for a ring, am I correct?"

"Yes," Erik choked out. Just a few days ago he was imagining what it would be like to be standing right where he was, purchasing an engagement band. But his fear and doubt was starting to get the better of him. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he should wait. Maybe he was deluding himself and seeing too much into everything.

"You don't sound too sure of yourself. Are you afraid she won't say yes?" he asked.

Erik shook his head yes, unable to put a voice to his fears.

"Well, that's nothing that a little 'bribery' can't handle to butter her up," he said as he winked at Erik and gestured towards a case of necklaces.

Christine pulled her cloak around her shoulders. It was colder today than it had been all week, and although there wasn't any wind, she could see a dark bloom of clouds on the horizon. She had stopped once or twice to rest her feet but other than that, she made good time to the cemetery. A stranger had offered her a ride in the back of his wagon that was filled with hay, but the way he asked it made her cautiously but graciously refuse his offer. She did not think he meant to give her a lift to her destination.

When she reached the cemetery she made her way through the standing headstones to where her fathers' lay. She brushed back the dead leaves and twigs from the base of his headstone and curled up against the side of it. A tear slowly trickled down her face as she remembered her father. She was no longer hysterically upset by his death how she used to be, but being here where they buried him years ago cut fresh the wound. She had felt so alone until Erik came along under the guise of her Angel of Music. That had been the last fantastical childhood hope from her father. It had come years after she learned that fairies and goblins were not real, when he was on his deathbed. He had ensured her that the Angel of Music was real and he would send him to her to teach her to sing when he could no longer be there.

"Oh Father," she cried. "Did you really send me the Angel of Music? Did you send me Erik? He is the closest thing to the Angel of Music that I've ever known and he is real. He's not some made-up fairytale like the other stories you used to tell." She drew her knees up under her chin and hugged them to her. "But what about Raoul?" she asked aloud. "It was always your wish that I marry well and you wished that should Raoul ever re-enter my life after your death that I must encourage his advances if he was so inclined to." She wiped her face on her skirt, "Oh Papa, I'm so confused. Nothing is simple anymore and the further I go along, the deeper I seem to fall into this tangle."

She sat there for a great long time, not getting answers to any of her questions from the silent grave of her passed father. She decided she had better head back before it got very late. She did not wish to be walking on the road home, alone and in the dark. As she stood to leave, she heard the ominous rumble of thunder in the distance and it was heading toward her.


	13. Storm and Shelter

Christine quickened her pace along the gravely path. She could smell the ocean and the impending rainstorm. She knew she was not going to make it back before the downpour began. All she had was her thin parasol to shield her from the sunlight on her walk out to visit her father's grave but it would not be much use in the rain. The air tasted salty and electric. There was little wind and the birds had ceased their chirping in the orchards that the path wound through on the hillside. The darkened clouds billowed and swept towards her from the sea. She could see flashes of light high up inside them, lighting them from deep within. They were too far out to hear the thunder, but they were moving very fast. She needed to find some sort of shelter or be drenched when the heavens opened up to drown the land in rain.

Erik left the shop late afternoon, giddy and flushed. The package in his pocket felt heavier than it ought to and he was very aware of it pressing against his thigh. He held his hand against it to reassure him it was not going to slip out and be lost in the street as he made his way back to the inn. As he walked north on the road, he saw the sky and his joy of the moment vanished as he saw the lightening streak across it.

"Christine!" he shouted and broke off into a run towards the Inn of the Setting Sun.

Marie was already standing in the doorway, anxious and rubbing her hands on her skirt. Erik knew Christine had not yet returned. Erik ran towards the old woman asking, "Where is the cemetery?" as she followed him toward the stable.

"Go south on the main road that leads from town. Look for an old abandoned church steeple half hidden in the trees on the right. The cemetery is on the path that leads behind it. You'll have to pass through a few miles of apple orchards before you see it," She said quickly as Erik bridled a young mare and led her outside. There was no time for a saddle and didn't need one anyhow since he had almost always ridden bareback.

"Hurry and find her, monsieur. This storm is going to be a very bad one, I can tell!"

And with that, Erik spurred the horse to a gallop and rode down the path to the road through town. He could hear the thunder getting louder behind him and smelled the rain's heavy scent in the air. The horse was young and fresh and could run very fast considering it was rather small. He urged it faster, holding on firmly with his thighs pressing down on the animal's shoulders. He loosened his grip on the reins and leaned forward to give her headway to stretch her stride and go faster.

The first of the raindrops came riding on the wind that was picking up increasingly fast. He looked up and the edge of the black clouds cut the sky in two, ahead of him a sunny and hilly landscape and behind him, the floodgates of hell unleashed. Thunder crashed loudly over him and he felt the rumble in his chest. The horse whinnied in fear and tried to fight Erik's firm hold on the reins. Erik was well experienced with horses so he pulled them in a little tighter and leaned across the shoulders with his head to the side in case she reared up and tried to throw him. The rain had picked up intensity and he felt his cloak being plastered to his back as the wind blew the storm against him. He was soaked in a matter of moments and the rainfall was so hard now it was difficult to see the path clearly. He desperately wanted to remove his mask but he feared he would lose it, having no place safe to keep it and still hold onto the reins. He knew he had to find her, and fast. They had to get out of this storm and someplace safe.

Christine knew as she walked, there were very few places to find shelter along the road until she reached very close to Perros-Guirec. As the raindrops began to pelt the ground she knew she only had one choice and that was to turn back and head towards the cemetery to the old church. It had been abandoned after a tree fell through part of the roof years ago, when her father was still alive, and since it was hardly used anymore after the new church was built nearby, the townspeople just left it as it was. Christine had just turned around to head back when the real rain hit. She felt like she was standing in the waterfall of an icy cold river. Her dress became unbearably heavy and her boots squelched in the mud as she tried to run faster along the road.

Erik heard the wind howling around him, the lightening cracking across the sky and striking the ground in the not to distant fields. His horse screamed at the sound and wheeled around. Now the entire sky was black and the ground was a river of rain and runoff from the hillsides, carrying with it all the dead undergrowth it picked up. He shouted against the wind Christine's name over and over again. He prayed he could find her, knowing that most likely she would have sought shelter from this deluge of water. The rain began to sting as it hit his skin. Then he realized that the cold water was starting to crystallize into hailstones. They were small but they were getting larger and hurting more as they pelted him and his mount mercilessly.

Erik somehow heard her shriek through the din of the wind and hail that was destroying the plants all around him. She was cowering under a large oak tree a small distance away from the road, which was now a river of churning mud.

"Erik!" she cried out.

He steered his mare towards her and dug his heels into her ribs to reach Christine quickly. He leapt off the horse, still holding onto the reins so she could not run off and embraced Christine as she ran into his arms with a sob. "Oh Erik, you found me!" she cried into his shoulder.

He quickly wrapped her into his sodden cloak as an added layer of protection from the sting of the pellets of ice that bounced off of them. He lifted her onto the terrified animal's back and mounted up behind her, holding her close to him and shielding her from most of the downfall.

"To the church," she shouted at him, "it's the only place that's safe!"

He urged speed at the mare, as much as she could manage with her double burden, back up the road and over the hill until he saw what was left of a steeple standing tall above the treetops. When they reached the church, Erik dismounted and kicked the doors open to lead the horse inside with Christine still on its back.

Inside, the roar against what was left of the roof was deafening. Up towards the altar, beams from the ceiling lay across the floor and the large trunk and branches of an enormous tree jutted through the hole it had made. Water was pouring in through it, but the front half of the church was dry enough and very sheltered.

Erik pulled Christine off the mare's back and cradled her sobbing, shaking body to his chest. "Shh, it's alright Christine," he comforted her. "I've got you."

"I thought I was going to be swept away," she cried, "The water kept getting higher and faster." He barely heard her over the roar of the storm.

Her arms came up around his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder. He settled them down to the leaf strewn floor and brushed her muddied hair away from her face.

He pulled his mask off his face so he could wipe the rainwater out of his eyes and pushed his hair back, shaking out the remaining ice drops that had stuck there; then replaced his mask since it felt warmer on his face than the open air. He kissed Christine's wet forehead tenderly without even thinking of it, it seemed such a natural thing to do. The relief he felt that she was alright was overwhelming and he had not even noticed how afraid he had been for her until she was safe. She was shaking in his arms quite badly, and then he realized she was actually shivering and that he was equally as cold. He hadn't even noticed his discomfort until now.

He looked around him. There was nothing to be had that was dry or warm to wrap her in. He gently deposited her on the floor, leaning her back against the wall and she curled knees towards her chest and shoved her hands under her arms, trying to warm herself. He lifted his cloak and wrung it out as best he could, getting most of the water free of it, and lay it down on the dirty floor.

He knelt by Christine and said, "We need to get as dry as possible." She nodded and stood and with shaking hands, began to unbutton her sodden dress. Erik meanwhile removed his shirt and squeezed the water from it then beat it against the rotted wood of a church pew. It was the best he could do for now. He removed his boots and drained the water from them then noticed Christine standing there, still dressed.

Erik could see her lips were slightly blue from the cold and he could hear her teeth chattering. "My dear, now is not the time for modesty. We have to get warm and I don't have the means with me to make a fire." She nodded her head in agreement and tried to finish undoing the buttons on her dress. Her frozen fingers fumbled with them, unable to feel what she did.

Erik stepped in and undid the last few that would require her to slip out of the dress. Despite being so incredibly cold, he could not help but think with a pang of regret that he wished he were performing this same service for her under more ideal circumstances. He pushed the dress down past her hips and along with it, the destroyed petticoats. They weighed ten times what they should with the amount of mud that clung to them.

"Now lie down close to me," he instructed, trying not to notice her near nakedness.

The cloak felt even colder than before on his bare back as he lay across it. Christine knelt down then scooted closer to him resting her head on his chest. He enveloped her in his arms and was grateful that she had not protested. He could already feel their body heat warming between them.

The poor beast that had carried them both clopped its hooves on the stone floor as it shook its mane dry. Erik felt badly for pushing the animal to exhaustion but was grateful for its speed. It too, settled down on the floor nearby, trying to get warm and dry.

Erik listened to the rain, the hail had ceased and the storm seemed to have lost its initial power. Water poured in and splattered against the stone floor through the hole in the rooftop. The storm had darkened the sky, but Erik could tell that it was nearly nightfall now. They would be here until morning, even if the storm blew itself out before then.

Christine's body gradually relaxed as her temperature rose. They were still wet, he wearing his pants and she in her thin chemise. He knew it would be dry in time. Her hands were closed into tiny fists against her chest and her jaw still quivered but slowly, she drifted off to sleep, safe in the shelter of his arms.


	14. Morning and Uncertainty

Christine awoke groggily to a dull pain along her left side where her hips and ribcage were resting uncomfortably on the stone floor. Her bare feet felt like ice cubes at the ends of her legs but her back was surprisingly warm. As she opened her gritty eyes she saw in the dim light Erik's arm draped over her waist, curled up around her. Her head was resting on his other arm that stretched out before her eyes along the floor. She was reluctant to move from his warmth and gentle embrace but the discomfort of having slept on the stone floor was becoming more and more painful. She carefully took purchase of his wrist and lifted his arm off her waist and rolled out from under it, placing it lightly to the floor behind her. Erik murmured something in his sleep and seemed to reach out for her as he curled himself a tighter ball on the still wet cloak beneath him.

Christine stood and stretched her cold stiff limbs, trying to work the blood back into them. It was still rather dark outside, but it was blessedly quiet. The storm had stopped blowing sometime in the night as they slept. She shivered as the air hit the side of her thin chemise which was still wet from having slept on the cloak. The rest of her clothing was still lying in a heap of mud and water, completely ruined. She treaded over to pick it up. It was a hopeless mess of tattered cloth. She let it fall back to the floor with a squelch. She found her cloak where Erik hung it out. It was drier than she thought it would be and quickly draped it around her shoulders, wrapping herself in the dirty cloth.

The mare Erik had ridden to rescue her had risen sometime ago and was now standing near the doorway with its head hung low, still resting from its brutal ride. Christine patted the horse's neck, flaking off some mud that had dried to its hair with her fingernails. Its muscles twitched against her palm and she stroked it, thanking it for carrying them both.

Erik still slept on the floor, his breathing deep and even. She crept over to him, debating on whether or not to wake him when she saw it. In the pale light that fought its way through the church's dirty windows she saw an object lying next to Erik's back. It must have fallen out of his pocket or cloak after they lay down. She bent to pick it up, curious as to what it was. She squinted to examine the object and saw that it was a small black box. Her eyes went wide and she gasped when she recognized the insignia stamped onto the top. Two doves flying side by side; it was from the town jeweler! She dropped the box in shock and it bounced off the floor, the noise sounding louder than she expected it to. It landed a short distance from where she picked it up. Erik groaned something incomprehensible and rolled to his back. She held her breath as he settled back into sleep waiting to move until she was certain he would not wake to find her standing over him.

She backed away, never taking her eyes off him, still holding her breath. Her mind was suddenly racing with every question and thought imaginable. What was in that box? Her mind knew with a certainty what it contained. She just did not realize how serious Erik's affections were until just now. She knew he loved her, but this seemed a drastic jump in their relationship. She was his student and he her teacher, and while they were most definitely something more, they had never formally courted, or had they? There were no rose colored promises of things to come as there had been with Raoul pursuing her. Erik did not seem to live in anything but the moment, as if that were all he could imagine possible; as if the future might never come to be. But it was true, they had spent countless hours alone together, doing many of the same things that she and Raoul did in their pastime. Erik gave her flowers and wrote music for her, he took her out in carriage rides and gave her everything she desired. There had never been any declaration of intent, other than his admittance of loving her. There was no formal agreement between them. But did that change anything? She suddenly saw on how many levels Erik truly saw him competing with Raoul. It was not just for her time or admiration, but for her love and the ultimate choice between the two in a decision that would last forever and not for just the moment.

What would she decide? She did not know. Erik had bought a ring so inevitably the proposal would be soon to follow. She knew suddenly that she wasn't ready to give any sort of answer, never truly having considered the question before now. Did she love Erik enough to give him her life and forego her relationship with Raoul? What of the future? Were there other prospects to be had? She knew were she to choose Erik, her friendship with Raoul would no longer be viable. She would have to once again be separated from her childhood friend. She shook her head to herself. She needed time, and she feared that the time between now and when she would be forced to come to an answer, might not be enough.

She sat on a pew, staring up toward the altar. Well, she thought, at least she had warning to think things through. If not, she would surely have made a fool of herself and would probably break Erik's heart if she answered with her first reaction; panic. Somehow she knew this was coming, that eventually she would be forced to make up her mind, but not now; certainly not this week. Had this been Erik's plan all along? It couldn't have been, she convinced herself. He had bought the ring here, probably yesterday since there were few other opportunities when he was alone long enough to go to the shop.

She heard Erik stirring behind her. She sat still and pretended not to hear him as he sat up and yawned. Was it her imagination or did she hear him curse? She waited another moment, then stood and turned to face him.

The box was gone, presumably back where it had fallen out of before.

"Good morning, Christine," He said. "Are you alright today?"

"Yes, Erik. A little stiff and I'm still cold, but I think I'm alright," her voice sounded more sure than she felt.

He cracked his neck loudly to one side then the next then proceeded to stretch his back out with his palms behind him. He avoided looking right at her, she noticed. He picked up his shirt and shook it out, causing leaves to go flying in the wind it caused.

"Ruined waste," she caught him saying to himself as he pulled it on. He strode over to the doors and opened them with a small struggle. The wood was swollen with the rain and did not like budging. It scraped noisily against the floor as he pushed them open. The faint sunlight was turning the sky pink and blue and she could hear a few birds chirping already. Erik turned to find his socks and boots and pulled them roughly onto his feet. He found Christine's boots and her wool socks and handed them to her. They were not dry but it was better than being barefoot. She pulled them on slowly as she watched Erik lead the horse outside.

'He must think I saw it', she thought. She was going to have to act nonchalant until she could convince him otherwise. The longer the subject was put off, she thought, the better. She followed him outside and found him wiping the horse down with a handful of long grass. He checked her hooves for damage then allowed her to graze as he came back inside.

"She's alright," he said. "Thankfully she did not injure herself last night while carrying us. I rode her hard."

Christine agreed. "I hope Marie isn't too worried. I hope her place is alright. That was the worst storm I've ever seen."

"It was most likely a typhoon that ran aground. They happen from time to time," Erik said knowingly. He picked up his cloak and shook most of the dirt and debris that clung to it from off the floor.

"What do you want to do about your dress?" he asked her. "Do you want to try and save it?"

Christine did not have an extensive wardrobe, but looking at the wet and muddy pile on the ground she shook her head. Even if she could somehow clean it, it would look awful and was fit for a rag-picker's cart.

"Then we will leave it here. We should get a start back so we can get clean and into some warmer clothes."

"And get some food too," Christine exclaimed as her stomach painfully rumbled.

"I agree. I've eaten nothing since breakfast yesterday," he replied.

Outside as the sun rose to light the sky Christine could see the destructive force of the storm everywhere. Trees were down, branches were strewn across the lawn, piles of dead leaves lie where the floodwater had deposited them. Her feet sank into the mud until it reached the ankles of her tall boots.

Erik lifted her onto the horse's back and took the reigns in his hand to lead them back toward the road. "The ground is too soft for her to carry both of us and I would only burden her like that if it were truly necessary."

Erik walked with high steps, pulling his feet from the muck and stepping over fallen branches across the path. He led the horse behind him, stepping carefully and frequently looking back at Christine. It was going to be a long time back to the inn.

Erik took care to lead them where he was certain the horse's hooves would not sink too far into the ground and slip on the sloping hillside. The rainfall had washed away most of the gravel that covered the road, leaving behind deep rivets cut into its surface. At the base of one hill the standing water rose nearly to Erik's waist and he fought against a tangle of broken treetops beneath the surface to get past.

Christine watched him struggle to get them back to the inn. She admired his tenacity and marveled at his strength. Could she imagine Raoul doing the same? Certainly his chivalrous nature would cause him to rush off to her rescue, but she could not imagine him trudging through the mud to spare their mount the exhaustion of carrying them both. He probably would not have known to lay together skin against skin to keep warm. They most likely would have frozen in their wet things rather than allow her to tarnish her innocence.

She flushed with the thought. Had the circumstances been different, she could imagine how heavenly it would have been to lie in Erik's arms, safe and protected, and warm. Being wet and half frozen on a stone floor sort of destroyed that mood, but it had been an unexpectedly pleasant sensation waking up in his arms nonetheless. Her face felt hot as she let her mind wander into a short fantasy. She and Erik lying side by side in his bed, his finger stroking the hair back out of her face as he kissed her gently. That, she realized, could be a very real possibility. As enjoyable as the thought was, it still frightened her. Was she ready?


	15. Damage and Repair

It took them the better part of the day to return to town. The roads were a mess and all along the way they could see the damage caused by the storm. Trees were lying on their sides, their roots sticking up in a muddy tangle above the pools of collected water. The orchard was in poor condition and a farmer somewhere was going to have a horrible harvest later this year. Some areas were not as bad as others. Erik breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the edge of town over the rise of the hillside.

As they passed through the streets, Erik surveyed the destruction. Most of the homes and buildings were no worse for wear but the streets were littered with broken roof shingles and bits of glass here and there from windows that had shattered. The townspeople were well on their way to cleaning up the mess. The homes that had fared better through the storm had thick shutters over their windows to protect them from damage.

Christine had remained silent through most of the ride back, only speaking up to point out a possibly easier path to lead them on. Had she seen the box, Erik thought to himself over and over again? Surely not, or else she would have said something, he was sure. He had not even realized it was still in his pocket when they lay down together. He was grateful it had not been lost on his insane ride across the countryside to rescue Christine, not that he couldn't easily afford to replace it, but he had never seen any stone more perfect than the one in the setting.

Last night had been a cruel irony for him; the first time in his entire life to hold a woman as she slept by his side and it could not have been a more horrid circumstance to be had in. His poor bones ached from sleeping on the wet cloak and hard floor and his shoulder cramped painfully from leaving his arm in the same position most of the night, rather than wake Christine to move it. Still, he had never felt any sensation more comforting and natural. Nor had he ever felt anything more sensual either. He awoke sometime in the night and uncomfortable as he was, he could not keep his mind free of the very provocative thoughts that crept into his head. He would never dream of repeating such a situation, granted, but he was determined to do whatever was necessary to one day experience that sensation once again with her, only on more enjoyable terms.

Past town, they approached Marie's Inn. Erik could already see several people, guests he presumed, milling about the outside of the house. As they rounded the corner and turned up the path, Marie burst through the front door.

"Oh, thank heavens you're alive and safe!" she cried out as she ran towards them to take the reigns from Erik's hand. "I was so worried about you both! Tell me what happened? Are either of you injured?" she prattled on a mile a minute, "Goodness, look at the both of you! You look like you went through the worst of it all. I must get you both inside so you can get cleaned up."

"And fed," Christine said wearily. "We're both very hungry."

Erik helped Christine down off the mare's back. The animal was already eagerly seeking its stable where it knew there would be fresh hay to eat. Marie nodded in agreement and handed the mare's reigns off to one of the guests who were helping clear fallen branches away from the house. He led the horse towards the back of the house where the small barn stood.

Marie led them both inside making them promise to tell her what befell them after they were clean, fed, and rested. Erik kept his arms around Christine's shoulders protectively as she clutched the cloak to her body. She started ordering her maid to draw up some bathwater for Christine. She motioned for Christine to follow her to the bath house but remained in the hall with Erik.

"Monsieur Durand," Marie began hesitantly, "I'm afraid there was some damage done to my inn last night." She stopped there, unsure of how to explain further.

"Damage? What sort of damage?" Erik wondered why she was so hesitant.

"Well, to be specific, a rather large branch of the tree in the back broke off and smashed through your window," she replied then quickly added, "The other guests have already helped me clean it up, but I'm afraid some of your things may have been ruined."

Erik quickly opened the door to his room to see just how bad it was. The first thing he checked was his violin case. It was across the room where he left it and it was undamaged. He could not say the same about some of his clothes though. Several items had been rained on directly through the open window and nearly everything left out of his suitcase was dirty. The entire room damp from the rain that the wind had blown in. He would have to launder most of his clothing or have some new things purchased. He pulled out a fresh set of clothing from the bottom of his suitcase that were the only ones dry. The mask he was wearing would have to be thoroughly cleaned if he wanted to continue to wear it but it would take awhile for it to dry so he pulled out his backup mask to wear in the meantime. He removed the soiled black box from his pocket and tried to brush it off before opening it. Its contents remained untarnished and blessedly in tact. He stowed it away in his luggage for now, until he could find the opportune time to give it to its rightful owner.

After awhile he heard a knock at the door, informing him that Christine was finished with her bath and he could now use it if he wished. He went downstairs to the small room just off the kitchen that had a small bathtub and mirror inside. The maid came inside with a jar of soft soap, followed by another servant struggling with two pails of hot water, which they proceeded to pour in. They returned again with two pails each and poured them into the tub as well. They left and told him to make a pile of anything he wished to be washed outside the door. After stripping down out of his muddy and dirty clothes he stepped into the warm water and started to scrub the remnants of the last two days out of his hair and skin. Rightly so, the water was black when he left it and toweled himself dry. After dressing he felt much better and more like himself than a dirty street urchin.

He gave the maid an apologetic look as she passed him to clean up the bath house and empty the water from the tub. He found Christine in the main room, curled up near the fireplace, hungrily eating her stew. She looked pale and fresh with her still wet hair curling down her back. She only wore a cotton robe and had her legs drawn up underneath her in the overstuffed chair in which she sat. She saw him and smiled.

"You look much better when you aren't caked with mud," She said between mouthfuls.

"Thank you. I have to return the compliment. Although it seems to me that for most of this week I've seen your propriety in clothing dwindling," he teased as he took his waiting bowl of stew and joined her in an adjacent chair.

She gave him a glare and said, "I was hungry and I couldn't be bothered to go to the trouble to dress before I ate something." She stuffed the bread into her mouth and chewed.

"I was just teasing you," Erik replied. Normally he did not get very hungry but he was ravenous and before he spoke again he had consumed three bowls full and at least half a loaf of the warm bread.

When Erik looked up again, he saw that Christine had drooped over in her chair, her lax hand about to drop the bowl into her lap. He quietly stood and took the bowl from her hands placing it on the end table. Then he slipped his arms under her shoulders and knees and lifted her with ease and carried her up the stairs to her room. She awoke as he settled her down to her bed. Christine's hand tightened around his and she dreamily murmured, "Stay."

Now they were back at the inn under the motherly watch of Madame Beauchamp, as much as he wished he could, he knew it was best if he left her alone to sleep. He removed his hand from hers and said, "You're exhausted. Get some sleep."

Her whimpered a protest but it came out so soft Erik couldn't be sure that's what it was. She curled onto her side and fell fast asleep. Erik closed the door softly behind him and found Marie there waiting for him.

"I've had the downstairs room prepped for you since you can't stay in your old one until we get that window replaced," she said to him. "I want to thank you for returning Christine safely. She's a sweet girl and I was worried sick last night."

"There's no need for thanking me. I would give my life to keep her safe," Erik replied.

She looked at his eyes appraisingly, "That I believe you would." She left him in the room where he promptly fell across the bed and was asleep in moments.


	16. Dreams and Anticipation

*My apologies to my readers for the lack of updates over the past few weeks. Life turned hectic and we had a death of a beloved pet in the family. I hope I will not leave you hanging again for so long.*

Christine slept deeply through the afternoon. She opened her eyes hours later, it was dark outside and she was unsure of the time. She had never had a dream so incredibly intense and vivid. Her first dream had been fretful, reliving the flood and her fear of the rushing waters and debris. The dream that followed, however, was much more enticing. No, that was not the right word. It was frightening on another level and wholly wonderful all at once.

In her dreams, Erik still carried her up to bed, but instead of tucking her in and closing the door behind him, he stayed and she most certainly had not fallen back asleep as a result. She sat on the edge of her bed. Erik was suddenly once again shirtless and kneeling in front of her as he stroked her hair from her face, his warm hand gliding gently down the side of her neck. His fingers traced her bared collarbone where the robe fell back from her skin, sending goose-bumps up and down her arms and back causing her to moan a sigh of nervous pleasure. He smiled at the response and said, "Such beautiful music you make when I touch you." He sat beside her on the edge of the mattress, leaning in closer to her. His hand continued to slowly push the edge of the robe farther back to reveal her pale shoulder which he brushed with his lips. She felt a draft of air on half of her chest as his hand continued to move behind her shoulder and down her back, half removing the dressing gown. His lips found the place where her neck met her revealed shoulder and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears as his other hand dared to cup her exposed breast. He kissed his way up her neck softly, his mask felt cool against her skin, murmuring her name as his palm left her breast and moved under the other side of the robe to caress the other. The robe fell from her other arm and crumpled around her waist on the bed leaving her entire upper body exposed to his touch and scrutiny. As his mouth found hers, a sensation, like the rest she could only imagine having never felt it before, he pushed her back to lie on the bed. His lips left hers and he stared into her eyes, "You are so beautiful, my Christine. My wife…" his voice trailed off and his words rang in her ears. She looked down at her hand in wonder and saw a shining gold band on her finger.

Then she woke up. Her heart pounded and her mouth felt dry from breathing so hard. She curled into her pillow, longing to return to the dream from which she had awoken. Then she started and sat up in bed. Was this what she wanted? Could such a reality be possible? It had been so real she almost felt like crying that it had all been a dream.

She slid her feet out of bed stretched her back as she sat up. A warm light flickered across the walls from a lantern perched on the dressing table. She stood and crossed the room and opened her door a crack to listen. She heard voices and movement downstairs so she figured it must not be terribly late in the evening. Christine pulled the bell cord by the door and waited for the maid to come help her dress.

Looking at herself in the mirror she brushed back the curls from her pale face and splashed some water from the basin onto her cheeks to refresh herself. This day has proven to be an exhausting one and her mind was now all too preoccupied with her dream.

When Erik had carried her upstairs and placed her in her bed earlier, his arms felt so strong and warm and reassuring. She knew she had asked him to stay and knew that that was what caused her dream. What had he thought of her request? Did he think she was talking in her sleep or did he think she was inviting him to her bed? What would he take from that assumption, she wondered? She felt heat spread across her face and neck as she once again thought of her dream and knew exactly what he would take if he assumed the invitation.

She shivered and felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought. She knew deep down that he was a respectable gentleman and despite her reassurances to Marie about his self control, she also knew within that he was indeed, a man, and probably a more desperate man there had never been before. When she first met Erik, he would quake at the slightest physical brush of a touch from her. Over time she came to learn that it was only through his sheer steel will of restraint that kept his passion from taking over his actions. Slowly over time through their lessons and the infrequent times he would take her out for a nighttime stroll through the deserted areas of the opera or the park outside, his courage for stealing brief touches of her skin with his hand became more frequent and more bold until they manifested into the contact they had shared in the last few days. Not wanting to falsely encourage him when she was not yet sure of what their relationship meant exactly, she had timidly avoided his attempts. But recently, she found herself wanting these moments of tender contact; looking forward to the next incident of courage on his behalf. When he used to steal a touch with his fingertip on the back of her hand, it would make her hold her breath and her heart to flutter. Now it was nearly impossible to resist returning the contact.

Christine heard a tap at the door, shortly after, the maid entered and bobbed a curtsey then handed her a small note. It was in Erik's hand. She thanked her and asked for help in dressing. As the tiny woman was cinching the laces on her corset, Christine opened the note and read it silently.

My Dearest Christine,

When you awaken, please join me out by the cliff-side. Dress warmly.

Yours Always,

Erik

Christine's heart fluttered in her breast, like a moth trapped within the ever tightening corset. After what her unconscious mind just imagined in her dreams, she was suddenly more nervous than ever about being alone with him. 'It was just a dream, he's still just Erik' she told herself as the maid helped her into her dress. 'Ha ha,' she laughed to herself, 'when is Erik just Erik?' The maid finished and left Christine staring at her reflection in the mirror. She breathed deeply through her nostrils and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. "Time to go," she said aloud to her mirror image. A twinge of fear and anticipation filled her stomach as she left the Inn to walk towards the cliffs. Ever since she saw that little black box in the abandoned church as Erik slumbered, she felt as though she were perched at the edge of a precipice, one foot raised and waiting to drop. Now she felt within a welling certainty what her answer would be when the time came to give one.


	17. Pessimism and Expectation

Erik deeply breathed the smell of the ocean, filling his lungs with the chilled air. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the sound of the waves below rushing back and forth, crashing onto the sand and rocks. He exhaled slowly, trying to relax. He had been out there making preparations and waiting for several hours. His afternoon slumber had not lasted nearly as long as he had hoped. Upon awakening he lay in his bed thinking of the week. It would be false to say that the vacation had been altogether disastrous. If anything, he kept pinching himself to reassure that he was not dreaming and would not awake to find himself several stories below the opera, alone and nowhere close to achieving what he so desperately wanted.

His heart beat soundly in his chest, a little too fast. He really should not have had a few drinks while he waited, but he could not help himself. He needed to steel his will and fortify his nerve. He stood and once again went over the small inventory of his preparations. He had picketed a small shelter of a half tent to reflect the light and heat of the fire. Thankfully there was no wind tonight, only the slight breeze coming from the sea that occasionally swept across the flames causing them to burn a little higher. He had laid out a blanket on the sparse patch of grass which randomly sat amongst the rocks of the cliffs. A pile of driftwood sat nearby that he fed to the fire periodically. The flames were a beautiful blue-green from the iodine burning in the wood and smelled of the seawater. He had a bottle of honey mead warming near the fire. His own spirits of the stronger sort were tucked neatly away in his coat pocket. His mask lay by his side as he waited, feeling the glorious heat from the fire on his bared skin.

He stared up at the moon. It was very bright for not being quite full and the stars surrounding it winked down on him. Wishing on stars was not a pastime he participated in. He was more likely to curse at them from the Paris Opera rooftop to vent his frustration. He swore under his breath as he shook his head. He must be mad. There was little hope that the evening would turn out as he wished. As amazing as this week had been so far, he knew it was nearly over and although far from ready, he had to take his chances now or never. Once they returned to the opera, he knew deep down that whatever transpired between he and Christine this week would likely be forgotten by her and things would resume to their normal pace and routine. Raoul de Chagny would change everything back to the way it was. He could not let that happen.

He took out his violin and started to play softly to pass the time. He did not pay attention to what he played, letting his mind wander and his fingers do the same across the strings. He was surprisingly not startled when he heard Christine's voice approach, humming the harmony to the tune he played. He finished the last notes of the song and stood and turned to face her. She smiled at him as she approached the fire.

She took a rather deep breath before saying, "Good evening Erik." Her large dark eyes reflected the firelight and seemed to dance before his.

"Good evening Christine. I trust you are well rested and feeling better now?" he replied.

Christine nervously nodded her head as she observed the scene. The fire had obviously been burning for awhile and more driftwood added to it. How long had Erik been out here waiting for her, she wondered? She walked towards him as he stood and motioned for her to sit on the blanket spread underneath the open sky. He had another blanket propped up by poles behind it as a lean-to. As she sat down, she was surprised how warm the spot was between the fire and the shelter of the tent. She kept her cloak around her shoulders, but untied it and removed the hood. Her dress front was toasty warm in moments. She saw a bottle and two glasses sitting close bye. She felt her ears burn hotter than they should have in the night air as she wondered how long Erik had planned all this.

"Would you care for something to drink?" Erik asked?

"Yes please," she said, noticing how high her voice sounded in her head.

Erik leaned over to reach past her for the bottle and grasped it by the neck. She inhaled the heady smell of his cologne in mixture of all else that made his signature scent. His arm brushed hers as he sat back to pour her a glass, sending chills up her spine. He stared at her intensely from beneath his mask as she sipped the warm liquid. Sweetness and heat spread over her tongue as she swallowed the mead. He poured himself a little and raised the cup to his mouth, never taking his eyes off her as he did so. Christine found herself entranced with his lips. He licked the sweetness from them and she hotly blushed as she recalled her dream and how his mouth had so gently caressed hers.

"So," she began, "how long have you been out here waiting for me?"

Erik smiled, "Awhile. It's a surprisingly nice night considering the weather of late."

Christine took another sip and swallowed, trying to think of anything to talk about that would keep her mind off what she dreamed.

Before she could speak again Erik asked her, "Have you enjoyed your vacation so far? Besides being nearly drowned twice." He laughed lightly at the expression she gave.

"Erik, I hardly 'drowned' in the waves the other day. Although I fear I could have died from embarrassment at my behavior. I never did apologize for being so improper." She tucked her chin to her chest and stared into her lap, recalling her actions.

"Christine, do not think of it anymore. You had a moment of," Erik paused to think of the words, "enthusiastic inspiration." He chuckled a little. "You never need worry about what I will think of you. Everything you say and do is dear to me."

"Thank you," Christine replied honestly. She felt a little relieved that he did not think she was not still innocent. "It's been nice to get away from the opera. I did not realize how much I needed a break." She was not thinking entirely of her musical training as she recalled Raoul. She paused, "I don't mean to say that you have been pushing me too hard in my lessons."

Erik said, "That's good to hear. I sometimes fear I am too hard on you. I simply wish for you to excel and have the life you were always meant to have."

Christine relaxed a little. Discussing her career seemed harmless enough. Maybe her assumptions about this evening were not what she had imagined.

"Erik, I don't know what kind of life I was meant to have. If I hadn't been for you teaching me to sing, I would still be a mediocre ballet dancer struggling to stay employed within the opera and living on the good graces of Madame Giry and my small inheritance." She finished her mead, feeling the warmth of the alcohol relax her. She drew her knees up and hugged them, resting her chin on her arms as she stared into the fire, her mind now wandering.

"Christine," Erik said, "You know I want the best for you. I wouldn't have taught you if I didn't think you had it in you to be great. Once the word of you gets around, you will be able to go anywhere in the world. You will be famous!"

"I never dreamt of fame, Erik. Before my father died, my dreams consisted of what he wanted for me. I never would have even made it to Paris at the opera if it hadn't been for him. I suppose I never even considered there to be an alternative. Papa never wanted to see me become a seamstress or a maid, which is all my upbringing would have me fated to do otherwise."

Erik refilled her cup and poured more into his own as he let her continue.

She sighed, "Do you really think I will make him happy in heaven if I become a great star?"

Erik thought this over and replied, "I think your father would be happy if you were, no matter if you are a prima donna or a street corner singer."

"So much good has come of my singing though," she said. "For one thing I would never have been reacquainted with Raoul." She saw Erik stiffen at his name and immediately added, "Nor would I have ever met you."

"Someone's good fortune is another man's curse," Erik muttered darkly.

Exasperated at the derision in his voice she said, "Are you speaking of yourself or Raoul?"

"Raoul of course!" her practically shouted.

"Erik, I know you dislike Raoul," Christine started but she was cut off.

"Dislike?" Erik said with disgust. "I don't dislike him. I loathe his existence!"

Christine straightened up and lowered her knees to address him directly, "Why? Why do you loathe him, as you say? He has been a good friend to me when I have had very few. He has never done anything to you to give reason to hate him so."

"Hate is not the proper word," Erik hissed.

"Then what is the proper word?"

"If you must know its jealousy!"

"Jealousy? Of what might I ask?" she said, gesturing into the air. "His wealth or his status? Please don't tell me his 'good looks' because I find him a little too vain at times."

"I'm jealous because even though we are hundreds of miles away, you still think of him! I'm jealous because out of the thousands of women he could choose to pursue he had to choose you, and you accept it! But mostly, I'm envious of his freedom; to feel entitled to take whatever he wants because he knows he will not be refused!" Erik shouted, his frustrated thoughts bursting like an ugly boil.

"What do you mean 'take whatever he wants'? I don't understand." Christine replied, perturbed.

"Christine, do you know how difficult it is for me to know that he courts you when I'm not around?" he said, pressing his fists to temples and running his hands through his hair as though to tear it out. "Do you realize how agonizing it is to know he has had the honor of kissing you?"

Christine's eyes opened wide at his sudden admittance.

"I, who have never been kissed in my entire life; I who have never known the pleasure of that simple gesture," he turned his head to face hers, his expression smoldering and his eyes glistening with tears. He choked out, "That, Christine, is why I am jealous of him."

He stared at her for one long moment, then turned away and rose to his feet. He walked a few yards away and hugged his chest with his arms. Christine saw his shoulders shaking slightly and watched his hand rise up to wipe the tears from under his mask.

She hesitated for a moment, then got up and walked towards him. He was stonily still, except for the occasional quiet gasps as his chest expanded.

"Raoul has never kissed me," she admitted quietly.

A moment passed, and she was not certain he heard her, then he said, "You honestly expect me to believe that?" his head lowered to stare at the ground and he shook it from side to side slightly. "Christine, you are too good to have to lie for my sake."

Christine felt a lump grow in her throat. "I swear to you I'm not lying."

Erik turned slightly and looked over his shoulder to see her face. Silhouetted against the firelight, he could see her expression and he knew, incredulously, that she was telling the truth.

"Never?" he asked softly.

"No more than you have ever done. He has kissed my hand on parting but he has never dared attempt more," she said, then added, "I have not let him."

Erik took a step closer to her, his arms dropping to his sides to grip his cloak's edge. He closed his eyes, "All this time I have been creating my own monsters in my head, imagining these moments that have never existed?"

Christine nodded. "Yes, it's true." She stepped closer to him. "I've never been kissed," she admitted quietly. Her mind fleeted back to her memory of the dream. 'At least not when I was awake' she thought.

Erik released the breath he had been holding and it came out in a shuddered blow. "Christine," he began, but he stopped.

"Erik?" Christine asked for him to continue.

Erik took a very deep breath and closed his eyes briefly before asking, "What am I to you?"

Christine was not expecting this question. She was unsure how to answer it. "I don't know." She was silent and, despite all the thoughtful musings she had had over the last few days, she knew what she felt more than she ever had, but did not expect to have to put those feelings into words. Then she thought of something she could at least say, "You are more than my teacher. You are my truest friend."

"Teacher? Friend…" Erik repeated.

'Wife,' Christine's memories of her dream echoed after him.

Erik stood very close to her now. She swore he must be able to hear her heart beating from this short distance. His presence was all encompassing and she was only vaguely aware of her other surroundings.

"Christine," Erik said again, this time sounding like her name caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, "I wonder if you would do me the honor…"

'Oh God, this is it,' her mind frantically thought.

"…of wearing this," Erik continued, and pulled the familiar box from his pocket.

Her heart thudded in her breast and her face felt like it was on fire. Christine swooned momentarily then she regained her facilities and said, "Yes," as he opened the box.

Confusion.

She saw in the moonlight an object at the end of a chain. The firelight glinted off two tiny eyes staring up at her from inside the box in Erik's hand.

She looked up into Erik's eyes and saw pure joy radiating there. He lifted the chain from the box and held it up for her to see. At the end of the necklace was a small white gold mask with two diamonds set for the eyes.

"It's beautiful," she said. She didn't know what else to say to him as he undid the clasp and moved closer to link it behind her neck. She felt a sudden and unexpected wave of disappointment come over her. The night's chill was suddenly apparent and she felt it more acutely as Erik gently lifted her hair away from the chain. The charm felt heavy and icy against her breast.

Erik beamed at her. "I hoped you would like it. It was so unique I could not pass it up." His hands shook slightly as he grasped hers in his own.

"What does this mean?" she managed to get out.

Erik held her hands between them and looked down at them.

"I hoped I might be so bold as to declare my intentions," he whispered.

"Your intentions?" she repeated, still confused.

"As a suitor."

Christine stood still, staring at his warm hands clasping her own. "You wish to court me officially?" Although far from her original assumptions, she still found herself nervously flattered.

"Christine, I realize I am not an ideal man, but I had hoped," Erik's voice faltered, "I have gone about everything with you all wrong. I was hoping to set this right; to be declared, if not openly then at least to you, that I might have even the slightest passing chance you might look at me as something more than your friend and teacher."

Christine could tell that her reaction must not be what he was hoping for. She suddenly felt horribly embarrassed in addition to her disappointment. She had blurted out her answer before she even waited for him to finish. What a fool she was for thinking he would propose to her before they had formally courted. Erik was a gentleman. What had possessed her to think he would do anything otherwise?

"You don't wish this do you?" Erik said, breaking her train of thoughts. Christine could tell he was trying very hard to keep himself from crying again. "You can keep the necklace if you wish. I won't take it back from you, even if you choose not to wear it." He sounded like his momentary rapture was just doused into the icy sea below.

"No, Erik," she blurted out, "It's not that." She stepped away to look at him. "This was just," she continued, "unexpected." She found the word to be truer than she cared to admit.

Erik gazed at her, daring to hope she might not be rejecting him. "Then, you will accept?"

This was not the evening she had prepared for, but she could not deny that it was a step in that very direction, albeit a disappointing let down.

"Yes, Erik. I accept."

Erik beamed, his white teeth glowing to match his mask. He seemed suddenly unsure what to do; as though this possibility never truly existed in his mind. She was sure he had not thought past anything but the question he asked; she could almost hear his thoughts screaming 'now what?' inside his head. Her own mind echoed the question. Aside from Raoul's immature pandering for her favor, she had never been in this situation, nor had any kind of relationship with a man. She was suddenly desperate to speak to Marie.

"It's late," she pointed out needlessly. She could tell he wanted to continue the evening, but even she was unsure how to move forward from this point.

"Would you like me to walk you back to your room?" Erik asked, sounding disappointed.

"No, thank you," Christine replied. "We should probably put out that fire."

Erik said to her, "I will take care of it later. I think I will stay out here awhile longer my dear." She heard new meaning in the address this time he said it. It sounded possessive; and she liked it.

"Then I will say goodnight, Erik."

"Goodnight Christine," was his soft reply. He stared after her wistfully as she started to walk up the hill towards the inn.

She only made it a few steps before she heard him rushing up behind her. "Wait, Christine!" he cried. He clutched her hand spun her around into his arms. Her arms instinctively went around his body, holding him tightly as he buried his face in her hair.

"Oh, Christine," he whispered. "Thank you. Thank you for making me so happy."

She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of his embrace. She hoped his emboldened actions would lead further, but he slowly drew himself apart from her, looking into her eyes with such a look of love in them that her breath stilled in her chest. She desperately wanted him to kiss her. She thought for a moment he would; his eyes traced her lips hungrily, but he hesitated, then quickly turned and briskly set off back to the fire by the cliffs leaving her standing there wanting in the beams of the moonlight.


	18. Wakefulness and Elation

Christine quickly walked back to the inn, self consciously aware of the pressure of two eyes staring at her back as she retreated the cliff side. Her breath came in short gasps as she clutched her cloak to her body to ward off the chill she felt that had nothing to do with the night air. Her face felt hot and her body felt cold in the absence of Erik's arms. She felt the chill metal of the necklace pressing heavily against her, swaying side to side with her steps. She had never been such a muddled mess of confusing and conflicting emotions, both good and bad. Never in a million years could she have predicted what she would feel for Erik. She felt flush with the sudden knowledge that tonight Erik had stepped over that line between a safe and distant relationship of student and teacher, and even surpassed that of a simple friendship in declaring a courtship with her. She felt suddenly out of place in her world and did not know where to stand or how to act. Before there were always supposed boundaries and expectations but now she did not know what to do. Her mother died when she was far too young to have broached such subjects with her and her father had never discussed such things with her as if to pretend he would always be the only man in her life. Perhaps that was why he hinted his favor of Raoul, knowing that he would be the one to guide their relationship and show her the rules. Thinking of Raoul made her stop dead in her tracks. What would become of her relationship to the vicompte now? Since Raoul had never formally asked to court her, his brother forbade it, would there become real competition or would Raoul fall into the shadows and give up? Could they still be friends? And what would she tell other people for that matter? Erik never came out in public so who would believe she had entered into a relationship and how did she explain why she was suddenly off limits to other men? She now rushed towards the inn, intent to corner Marie and beg some answers from the experienced woman.

After hammering on her bedroom door a few times, she was rewarded with the light under the door growing brighter and a sleepy-eyed Mme. Beauchamp opening the door.

"Christine?" she whispered, "Whatever is the matter?" she said upon seeing Christine's distraught face.

"Oh Marie, I really need to talk to you," Christine quietly cried out.

Marie gathered her robe tighter about her and picked up the candlestick nearest the door, motioning for Christine to follow her down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Christine trailed behind Marie and the bobbing candle to the kitchen where the evening's hearth fire still smoldered in the ashes. Marie pointed to the stack of wood next to it and told her to get the fire going again while she put on a kettle to heat. After doing so she turned and latched the door so they would not be disturbed.

Christine settled into a chair nearest the fire feeling a little more at ease in the familiar setting of the cozy nook with the smell of dough rising near the oven. Marie sat down next to her and asked, "Now, Christine dear, tell me what happened?" she settled in for what she knew would be a long explanation.

Christine dove right in, having to restart her telling a few times to backtrack to earlier events of the day. She sheepishly told of finding the box lying next to Erik in the church after sleeping next to him all night. She told Marie of her suspicions and then she explained her dream later that afternoon and how her feelings had changed into something else over the recent days. She began by explaining the events of the evening by the cliffs and showed her the necklace Erik had given to her. Marie sat and listened, nodding occasionally, but keeping her own council until Christine was done telling everything.

When Christine slumped back into her chair, having left no detail out, Marie cleared her throat and said, "I thought so. I didn't expect he would do something like this while you were still here, but it makes sense I suppose. He must have had at least some of this planned if you say there was no concrete reason for coming here just the two of you."

Christine nodded and waited for Marie to continue.

"And you say you are certain of your feelings for him?" Marie prodded.

"Yes," Christine replied, "I am very sure now, but I simply don't have any idea of what comes next. I really don't know what to do, especially given our special circumstances."

"Do you mean just his mask or is there something else?"

"Oh, his mask is just one facet of the difficulty," Christine said with a sigh, "I'm not sure how to explain this, but back in Paris, Erik doesn't show himself hardly ever because," she paused not sure how to continue, "he has played a continued joke with the company of the opera that has perturbed most of the people there and it now makes it impossible for him to show himself." She hoped that would be enough of an explanation.

"So, your M. Durand has created some problems of his own and now they will affect you as well?" she inquired.

"More or less. He did that before he knew and taught me though so I can't hold it against him. I'm sure he did not ever think it would have any direct affect on anyone but himself." She wanted to steer the conversation away from the subject, lest she have to explain to Marie that Erik was the infamous Phantom of the Opera and extorting money from the management for fun. "His mask aside, there is more. Because he has had to teach me in private, we have already spent much time together doing things that most courting couples do, so it almost seems unnecessary for him to propose the formality of it."

"I can't blame the man," Marie said. She rose to pour some of the steaming water from the kettle over their tea leaves to steep. "He obviously cares about you enough to try to give you a normal relationship as you would have with any other man. From what you have told me, you are certain of your feelings for him, but have you given any thought as to your future and what that would entail?"

Christine sighed, "That is why I came to you. I don't even know how to act when a man is courting me, let alone what is my responsibility in a relationship and what is proper or not. Also, I need advice on how to handle things with Raoul."

"Oh, Christine," she began, handing Christine a mug of hot tea, "relationships are complicated, but not so much as you would think. Normally a man would approach your father first and talk things over with him before propositioning you but sadly that is a step he has had to skip. While you are supporting his interest, you are not to engage in any private encounters with any other men and you must turn down any other offers unless things between you and M. Durand change and you decide to call it off honorably. So, as far as Raoul is concerned, he can be your friend, but only in a professional setting or if Erik is present."

"That's not likely to happen," Christine said dryly.

"Then I'm afraid you will have to simply avoid seeing him. If he tries to call on you, you must turn him down and explain that you are not available for such social visits."

"But what if he persists," Christine asked, sipping the scalding liquid.

"Then he would be ungentlemanly and rude for doing so. Always remember, Christine, that a lady has no need to explain herself for anything." She gave her a wink and a smile.

"Then what?"

Marie grinned wryly, "Dum dum da dum," she said singing out the wedding march.

Christine blushed. "How long do we court for before we…?" she could not say the words 'are married'.

"As long as you like," Marie said, then added, "although in your case, if you are sure, don't leave the poor man hanging too long after he asks, which I'm sure he will sooner or later. He's wound tighter than those violin strings he plays."

Christine laughed softly at that, feeling much less anxious and more excited now that she had some direction to follow. They chatted for awhile longer, then Marie begged to return to her bed for some sleep before the rooster started to crow. She said goodnight and left Christine by the fireside to finish her tea.

Erik lay on the blanket by the crackling fire, staring up at the distant stars above. He could hardly believe he was awake and not dreaming. He had seen the look on Christine's face when she saw the jewelry box. As much as his ears tried to convince him they had heard wrong, her voice still rang in his ears the resounding 'Yes' that had made his heart stop beating momentarily. It had taken all his self control to pretend he did not hear her say it. He knew he should have felt ashamed in deceiving her with the necklace purposefully placed into a ring box, but in his defense, it had been the shopkeeper's idea, not his. "Gauge her reaction with this," he had said as he slid the chain into the padded box.

He still didn't know what dared him to spill his confession of jealousy to her with such detail. He was sure after having said what he did, she would turn away and leave and the chance of asking her to be his significant other had flown out the window. His heart still beat madly inside his chest and only his deep breaths seem to calm it momentarily. His urge to kiss her had been unbearable but he did not want to shatter the illusion he was living in tonight. He did not want to think of how horrified she might have been at his presumption that he could not bring himself to give in to the urge to do so. He had to go carefully now. Now he had a true chance at happiness and at being with Christine forever. He asked and she had accepted, and the small corner of his brain called optimism was still trying to reconcile with the fact that he was sure she said yes thinking he held a ring in his hand.

***FYI. My husband actually did this to me, except it was with earrings at Christmas instead of a necklace. Totally tricked me…***


	19. Courtship and Regression

Christine awoke late in the morning. Her nap the previous day combined with the tumultuous evening finally caught up with her in the early hours of the morning. As she washed her face she saw Erik's gift winking back at her. How very fitting he would choose such a charm to adorn her with; a literal representation of himself in the gold mask. The almond shaped diamonds caught the light from her window sending a double refracted rainbow across the wall. She fingered it delicately, grasping it into her fist as she took in what it meant. Today was the first day of her courtship with Erik. This was the first day she was officially claimed by her enigmatic teacher as his sweetheart. She blushed for the thousandth time and rang the bell for the maid, anxious to meet Erik and see what surprises awaited her today.

She later found Erik standing in the great room alone, facing out the window. He was dressed in the same clothing she had seen him in the previous night and she wondered if he had gone to bed at all. She cleared her throat to announce her presence and he turned to face her, his hands still clasped behind his back lightly.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle Daae," Erik said softly with a small bow.

Christine smirked at the formality, "Good morning, Monsieur Le Fantome," she replied playfully.

Erik's eyes hardened slightly at the address but quickly returned to their previous softened stare.

"I trust you slept well," he continued and motioned for her to sit down in the chair next to him.

"Yes, very well, thank you," she said, slightly puzzled at this reversion to the formality that had once supported their tenuous connection between student and teacher. She wondered if there was anything wrong or if she had done something to change his mind. She continued to stand, not taking the chair he offered and commented, "I see you have not yet changed from last evening. Did you sleep at all?"

"I fear I am at a loss for fresh clothing this morning and I wondered if you would feel like accompanying me into town to remedy that," he said with a gesture up and down his person.

Christine felt a pang of regret at her remark on his dressed state, and remembered that most of his wardrobe for this trip had been ruined in one way or another, including several items of her own. Perhaps his stiff attitude this morning was because his comfort had been compromised. "I would love to accompany you into town," she said.

"Good. I have already broken my fast this morning but please do so yourself while I send for a carriage to take us there," he said and with a little bow dismissing her, left her standing in the room alone and confused.

As Christine nibbled on her pastry, she wished Marie were there to defer to but the maid mentioned that she had gone out to order supplies from the butcher and would not return until noon at least. Christine was not sure what to make of Erik's strange and curt behavior. He had not acted that way since she was just beginning her lessons from him and he had just revealed himself to be a man of flesh and blood and not her Angel of Music. Perhaps, she thought, this is just the way courting is supposed to be. It seemed a little unnecessary to her since she was already comfortable with Erik having spent so much time together. She stared at her half finished breakfast and realized she had only eaten a few bites, crumbling the rest into a useless pile of crumbs on her plate. She covered it with her napkin and left the dining table to find Erik waiting by the front door.

Erik helped her into the carriage, hardly touching her gloved hand; a gesture she had come to be familiar with after his continual courageous attempts at contact. He sat across from her instead of joining her side as she hoped he might. Weren't couple's supposed to sit closely and hold hands and that sort of thing, she wondered? They rode in near silence to the tailor's shop halfway through town, only having an occasional inconsequential comment on what they saw out the windows.

Erik helped her step down from the carriage, this time Christine firmly gripped his hand and did not relinquish it upon touching down to the ground. His eyes looked at her from under his hood questioningly. He seemed to think something over very quickly, and then he removed her hand from his own and after a moment's hesitation, offered her his arm, which she took. He told the driver to return for them in four hours in front of the shop.

"Four hours? You really think it will take us that long?" she asked.

"Christine," he began, she, relieved to hear her first name being used once again. "I am not the only one in need of better clothing."

Christine almost bristled at the remark, and was about to defend her wardrobe as the best one she could afford, but she bit her tongue as she remembered the several dresses she managed to totally ruin on this trip. She knew he would never insult her that way, and wrote off the comment flippantly.

They entered the shop and a middle aged man with spectacles and a short curled mustache greeted them.

"Good morning my lady, and you too sir," he said.

Erik kept his hood drawn and replied, "Good morning monsieur. We are in need of quite a lot of clothing today and we would be most gracious if you would accommodate us."

"Certainly sir," he replied, "What will you need exactly?"

Erik quickly removed at piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to him. The man tried to peek underneath the hood to get a better look at his face, but Erik quickly turned away and said, "That is everything I will require. My measurements are written at the bottom."

The shopkeeper looked over the list, glancing through it for the details, "Sir, are you certain you don't want me to measure you myself to assure a good fit?"

"If my measurements are not accurate enough for you to follow then perhaps we might find another competent tailor in this town," Erik replied curtly.

The man flustered a bit and not wanting to lose business, quickly replied, "No, sir. Everything here will be made to your specifications, I assure you."

"Good," Erik said. "We will also need a new wardrobe for the Mademoiselle. I trust there is a woman here to do the measurements?" Erik added suspiciously.

"Sir, I am perfectly capable…"

Erik cut him off, "Is there a woman about or not? I will not have Mademoiselle Daae measured by a man, capable or not." He emphasized 'capable' in an accusatory manner.

"Er, yes there is my wife. But she is finishing another customers order in the back and won't be available for several hours."

Erik took out his purse and produced a large bundle of notes which he lay on the cutting table beside him. "This should be enough for the clothing and your wife's time, as well as the inconvenience to her other customer."

Christine stood, dumbfounded, both at Erik's behavior and at the sum of money he had given. The man's eyes bulged out of his head, his hand twitched toward the money but not wanting to seem greedy, he continued to ask Erik, "Will this be a basic wardrobe or is it to be a trousseau?"

The question caught Erik off guard and Christine saw his stony manner waver momentarily at the thought of her in a bridal gown.

"No," Erik said after a moment, "She will need garments suitable for travel, as well as morning and evening dresses, along with the necessary undergarments and accessories."

"Right then, I'll just call my wife to join us," he said. He left Erik and Christine standing alone in the front of the shop amongst bolts of cloth and trim.

"I must leave you here for awhile, I have a few other errands to run," Erik said to her. "Please feel free to request anything you desire. I will return shortly."

The tailor returned with a small woman with frizzy ginger hair coming out of her cap and freckles crossing her rosy cheeks. She smiled at Christine, but was taken aback at Erik's presence. Erik stood behind Christine and surprised her when he placed a hand possessively on her shoulder as he told the man to make sure she was not disappointed. With that, he left. Christine felt the warmth on her shoulder dissipate and cool faster than Erik's demeanor had since last night.

Several hours later Christine stood in a new blouse and skirt made of the finest material. The tailor, Roger, was furiously cutting and sewing the specifications listed on Erik's note. Amazingly he had already finished two suits and was now working on a pair of tan trousers. His wife Adelia, was incredible. After choosing cloth and styles and rushing through the measurements which made Christine's head spin, she was ordered into a chair to wait while Adelia went to work pumping the foot pedal on the sewing machine with a well worn boot, all the time chattering about like a typical gossip. She attempted to ask many questions about Erik, but upon realizing that her tongue was looser than an unlaced shoe, Christine dodged most questions and was as vague as possible on the details. The last thing she needed was to have people around town paying more attention to Erik than was necessary. She realized that if they were to be together, she would have to become an accomplice of sorts. She dreaded bringing up the subject to Erik, but she realized she really did need to hash out the details with him of what she aught to say to strangers. Christine also wanted to find out more details of his past, and now she felt in a privileged position to do so. She was not sure today would be the best day to do it though.

Christine knew Erik hated dealing with strangers because of the reactions he got from them. His protectiveness was hardly needed in this situation, but his display had been bordering on threatening. She prayed his mood would lighten to the ease he displayed in the previous week.

Erik returned later as promised. The carriage had returned as well and waited for them outside the shop. Christine saw Erik deposit several items in the cab before entering the shop to meet Christine who was being fitted in another dress. Adelia kneeled in front of Christine, pinning the hem of the dress to the proper length before ordering Christine to step down and return to the curtained room behind her to change out of the garment. She then began stitching the hem with her sewing machine, giving Erik a nod in acknowledgement and called for her husband. Roger entered the front room, carrying a garment bag draped over one arm, which he hung on a hook and opened, displaying the new clothing inside.

"Would you like to try these on?" he asked.

"Yes," Erik took the foremost suit and made his way into the changing room that Christine had just exited. He could not help but look her up and down and admire the new dress she wore. It hugged her body in all the right ways without being obviously provocative. She brushed past him, smiling a little as though she could read his thoughts. Her perfume still lingered in the dressing room like an intoxicating drug. He inhaled it deeply as he changed into the new trousers and shirt. He left his old clothing in a heap on the floor, not caring if he took it with him when he left. He had to admit it, for having so little time to work with the clothing was of excellent quality and craftsmanship.

He reentered the room and stood in front of a full length mirror. He spied Roger's eyes widen as he caught a glimpse of his mask uncovered by his cloak's hood. He had the decency to close his mouth by the time Erik turned around.

"My compliments monsieur," Erik remarked as he shrugged out of his jacket.

"Oh just wait until you see what I've created," Adelia piped in. "If you're any judge of fine taste, you're going to really appreciate what I've done for the young lady."

"I'm sure they are beautiful. If what she is wearing now is anything to judge by," Erik continued.

"Oh, that's just a basic everyday dress. The real beauty is the evening gown you requested. Luckily for you both it was already completed and only needed a few minor adjustments to the length for it to fit properly," she said between a few pins in her mouth, then added to Christine, "I sure hope your gentleman here has plans to take you someplace nice tonight so you can show it off." She winked at her and threw Erik a glance as though she were hinting that he should do just that.

"I'm sure it's lovely and I cannot wait to see it," Erik replied politely. "Do you need more time?"

"No, I'm just finishing up this last item, and then I can package these all up for you. Would you like to take them with you or shall I have them sent somewhere by courier?" Adelia asked.

"Please send them up to the Inn of the Setting Sun. I'm afraid we will not be returning until later this evening," Erik said.

Christine wondered where they would 'not be returning' from for the duration of the afternoon. She figured she would go along with things and see what Erik had planned, rather than ask questions.

They both thanked Roger and Adelia once more, then Erik led Christine out to the carriage and helped her inside, again hardly touching the tips of her fingers in his own. She sat back against the bench seat as the swaying of the carriage made its way down the cobbled street. Erik sat across from her as he did before. Then she noticed some parcels lying next to her feet.

"New boots for the both of us, as well as a few other items I ordered previously the week," Erik said as he noticed her looking at them.

"Erik," she began, "I wondered if we could go somewhere to talk. I have some questions."

Erik did not seem surprised, "I had the very same idea. I have a few questions I would like to ask you ask well," he said softly, looking down at his gloved hands.

Christine wondered if he would explain himself and why he was acting as if their friendship had regressed back to its earliest stiff formality. It had been less than a day and she already felt missed the old Erik. This Erik felt coldly restrained, rather than the fiery burning restraint she found herself so drawn to.


	20. Questions and Answers

The driver of their carriage eventually pulled in front of the same restaurant where they had dined the first evening they arrived. Christine suspected that he wished to remain inconspicuous and having eaten there before there might be less attention given to his mask.

As they had before, Erik requested a private booth to dine, and ordered the waiter to bring them a light repast of bread, cheese, fruit, and wine and asked that they be left in private for their meal. After having the afternoon away from Erik to think, the more she wanted to ask some very personal questions, but Erik was the first to question her.

"Mme. Daae, I have a proposition for you," he started.

"I think I've heard that somewhere before," Christine replied with a smirk.

Erik couldn't help but smile, "My original plan was for us to be away for one week. However, that would leave us with returning to Paris tomorrow. Are you ready to go back yet?" he asked.

Christine thought it over and said, "I don't think so. At least not until I can get a few answers from you concerning some incidentals that I think are necessary for us to continue with our," she paused looking for the correct term. Failing she added, "our arrangement. Not to mention an explanation as to why you are acting so strange today."

Erik squirmed briefly in his seat. He did not like the sound of this. "Alright, I suppose that's fair. Firstly to answer your second remark, I am attempting to correct what, so far, could be construed as the most improper beginnings to a relationship. Since I have known you, we have been on our own rules and terms and I did not wish to offend you or overstep my bounds as I courted you. I apologize if you found that strange. As to your first question, what do you want to know?"

Christine was relieved to hear him say that, "Good, I admit it's been strange all morning to see you act so as though we hardly know one another." Then hesitated and asked, "First of all, what is your real name?"

This was not a question Erik was expecting. "I told you, my name was taken accidentally. You may call me whatever you wish, but I suppose M. Erik Durand will suffice, unless you wish it to be something else."

"No, I think the name suits you well," she replied. "My next question is difficult to ask, but it must be done." She thought of a way to put it as delicately as possible. "What must I say to people who meet us in regards to your mask? Also, will people be meeting us in public or will you stay in hiding when we return?"

Erik had been expecting this question and was well prepared. "I do not plan on hiding the rest of my life away in the bowels of the opera. There is no need to say anything. What I wear over my face is my business and mine alone, although now I guess that extends to you as well. If people are so inept that they persist in badgering you on the subject, you may tell them that I am simply eccentric and I prefer to go unrecognized." He felt satisfied with his explanation, but saw that Christine had started to cross her arms across her chest and look at him as if to say it wasn't good enough.

"Erik, I might need to come up with something better than that. I'm afraid your explanation might only drive people's curiosity on the matter."

"I'm sorry if my excuse is not good enough to hold against the curious fools that pass you in the street. What do you care what they think anyhow?"

"I'm not speaking of 'curious fools' or 'strangers' Erik," Christine said roughly. "I'm speaking of my friends and the few people I hold dear to me. Or will I never be privileged to introduce you to them in person? They might think me mad if I go about saying I've entered an exclusive relationship with the infamous Opera Ghost!"

"Ha! Do you expect me to waltz up to the Vicompte de Chagny and shake his hand as you introduce me to him?" Erik laughed contemptuously.

"I was thinking more along the lines of Madame Giry and Meg, and possibly a few others whom I trust to be polite," Christine spat back. "It might be a little easier on me if I had a better reason to explain your mask than your being eccentric."

Erik obviously did not want to continue the conversation down the path it was heading, but Christine continued on.

"Erik," she said more gently, "I have to know. What happened to your face?"

Erik turned his head aside to look out the window and avoid her question, but trapped together in the tiny curtained room as they were, he knew he would have to answer her, sooner or later.

Christine softly said, "I don't mean to disrespect you or to pry, but it would be easier to know. Perhaps I can come up with a better phrase to use when preparing people to meet you so they are not quite so unsettled."

Erik, still not looking at Christine, stood and faced the panes beside the heavy curtains. He leaned his head briefly on the glass, his mask pressing against it on his forehead. He straightened and began quietly, "I was born this way."

Christine listened intently and did not interrupt him as he moved on with his story.

"I have worn a mask every day of my life, thanks to a most gracious mother who saw fit to cover my face to avoid looking at me. My scars are not scars, but simply deformities from infancy. As I grew they became more pronounced than they actually started out, but thankfully as I reached adulthood they did not continue to change and have remained the same since." Erik stopped and turned to look at Christine with tears starting to form in his eyes. "I have never spoken of this to anyone before. I only do so now at your request because I can deny you nothing. I only want for your happiness, but I cannot see how this," he gestured towards his face, "could ever make you happy. Along with what the mask hides come a lifetime of whispers and gossip and finally casting out."

Christine did not say anything, fearing whatever she reassured would not be enough to convince him.

"Christine," Erik choked out, voice cracking, "I'm so sorry. I cannot begin to tell you what last night meant to me. That you would agree to court me and allow me a chance, but," he paused, unable to say what she feared would come next. He knelt down to the floor in front of her and said, "But I cannot go through with it. I cannot subject you to the life I have had to live thus far and I know you deserve better than anything I could possibly offer."

Christine started to panic. "Erik, please don't say things like that. Everything will be just fine!"

"No," he managed to say, "It may be the death of me to do so, but," tears streamed down the sides of his face and dripped out from under his mask, "I release you of your agreement to me. When we return to Paris you will be free of me to see whomever you wish."

Christine swallowed a hard lump in her throat twice before she could speak. She reached and tightly gripped the sides of his head in her hands, looking deeply into his eyes. "Shouldn't that be my decision? What if I don't want to be released? It was only last night I agreed to let you court me and I meant it. Or do you think me so fickle as to change my mind in less than a day?"

Erik stared at her in disbelief. He reached up and removed her hands from his mask and held them in her lap, "I don't think you fickle, simply naïve. You have no idea what being with me will do to change your life."

Christine begged to differ; she already did know what it would change. She would be blissfully happy to be with him.

"I should have explained all this last night before you were final on your answer to me, but I selfishly wished for just one night to be happy and pretend this could all work out."

Christine thought quickly of something to say that would make him change his mind. She needed more time!

"Erik, my answer is no."

Erik looked puzzled. "No?"

"No, I'm not ready to return to Paris just yet. If it would be alright with you, I'd like to stay another week," she said quickly.

Erik looked away, then back at her, "Are you certain you wish this? After all, we could be back in no time and all this could be forgotten that much more quickly."

"No, Erik. I told you before and I'll tell you again, I am not changing my mind. I have not even had an entire day to call myself taken." She suddenly blushed by her absent minded choice of word. She had meant to say 'spoken for'.

Erik's mind reeled with a sudden rush of desire as a flash of fantasy stole across his mind that consisted of him truly taking her; all of her. Here she sat, insisting to be with him, practically begging him not to leave, when in his reality, it should have always been the other way around. He felt absolutely wretched. Here he was with everything he could have ever hoped or dreamed for happening before his eyes and his own skepticism was sabotaging his happiness. Another week with her here with no interruptions or interference other than his own pessimistic torture and there might be a chance to do this right. This morning he panicked as the sun rose in the sky over the oceans waters as he recalled the days and knew he only had one day to spend with Christine, certain that once they returned to the opera, everything would crumble apart, and despite her promise to him, Raoul would somehow steal her back with that sickeningly perfect smile of his.

He silently thanked whatever God looked over him that day and kissed Christine's hands between his own.

"Thank you Christine. You must forgive me for being me sometimes. I am not accustomed to good things happening to me and when they do, I tend to doubt them."

Christine relaxed, "I understand."

Erik stood, his knees creaking slightly from kneeling for so long. "Christine," he started.

"Oh, so it's no longer Mademoise Daae?" Christine playfully said trying to lighten the mood.

Erik smiled, "I promise, no more of that. Christine," he asked again, "May I hold you?"

The simple innocence of the request squeezed Christine's heart. She could hear the difference in his voice now. Instead of hearing fear of rejection, she heard him asking for something he knew she would give.

"Yes," she said and stood to envelop herself in his arms.

As he wound them tighter around her, pulling her closer to him he said, "I'm beginning to love that word."


	21. Practice and Courage

After considerable time in each other's arms, they separated and resumed their meal at the table. Christine felt as though the weight of uncertainty had been lifted off her shoulders and she was once again free to enjoy Erik's company and the possibilities therein.

Erik watched Christine sip her wine. He smiled gently as she chatted about memories of the town and how she remembered it from her childhood. He clasped his hands together under his chin, leaning on his elbows at the table's edge, trying to listen as intently as was possible, despite the nagging itch in his head. Despite all Christine had professed, he was still uncertain whether or not to enjoy his good fortune too much. By the end of their simple meal, when the last of the wine had been drained from their glasses, Erik resolved to let fate take them wherever it may and to do his best to tell his own worries to go to hell and stay there.

Erik rang for their waiter to pay their bill and call for their carriage to be brought around. The young man took an extra moment to stare curiously at Erik's mask when he was preoccupied with getting their cloaks off the hook. Christine stepped forward half a stride gave the young man an accusatory look, hardening her eyes. His eyes immediately dropped and his face turned red with embarrassment at being caught. As they exited the restaurant, Christine's arm looped through his, she thought about the waiter's reaction to her.

The carriage was waiting for them at the roadside, but before Erik could help her into it she said, "Erik, wait. Do you mind if we walk into town again for awhile?"

"No, of course I don't mind," he replied then told the driver he was no longer needed, handing him a few coins for his trouble. "Is there something you wish for or need?"

Christine momentarily bit her lip, and then said, "I want to try something." She really did not want to offend him but her curiosity got the better of her.

"What's that?"

She paused then said as they walked, "I hope you would not be perturbed with me if I conducted a little experiment?"

Erik stopped walking. "Alright Christine, what's going on in that head of yours?" Erik asked, amused and puzzled at once.

"Well, if we are going to return to Paris in a week and go out publicly, I want to see how others will react to us."

Erik wasn't sure what to think of this at first. He feared the townspeople's reactions might discourage her and change her mind about the relationship they now shared. His usual reception with strangers varied from outright shock and abhorrence to nervous avoidance. Occasionally the unsolicited vehemence towards him turned violent. He was none too sure how they might react when directly approached in a friendly open manner. He had learned from an early age to come off as somebody not to be trifled with at first impression and he was rarely forced to deal with the negativity; most simply dealt with him quickly then retreated as soon as possible.

"Are you certain you wish to do this? You have seen how some people treat me when they see my mask."

"Erik," Christine said as she started walking up the cobbled pathway, "most people, however rude, would not dare affront a lady. You didn't see it but back in the restaurant, our waiter was gawking at you when your back was turned and I gave him a look that could freeze hell over. You should have seen how deeply he blushed when he realized he was offending me by staring at you."

Erik was a little surprised to know that Christine would be so angry at someone on his behalf. Seeing the determined expression on her face he knew he would not dissuade her from this. "I fear for how this will go over, but I will acquiesce to your request, however it may turn out."

She nodded and after a moment's pause, lifted back his hood from his head slowly, letting her gloved hand brush his hair, then pulled him along the street. "Good. Now, we need to find somewhere to excite some attention."

They walked through town, all the while Christine held tightly onto Erik's warm secure arm. His muscled were taunt under the sleeve of his new shirt. As they passed people on the street, Christine caught their eyes, daring them to stare. She wanted them to lay eyes on them so she could give them the same hard look with her eyes as she smiled sweetly at them and bobbed her head in acknowledgement. Every person they passed who looked their way, did a double take, but the moment Christine looked back at them, they realized they had been caught in a faux pas and attempted to pass it off as though they were looking at something next to them or behind them.

Christine felt a slight power playing at this game of social etiquette. She wanted them to notice and stare. She wanted them to feel uncomfortable for doing so. She marked the difference in their reactions now. Before when she and Erik walked anywhere, he would duck his head under his cowl and hurry past everyone with his face lowered under it and her trailing slightly behind him. Now she felt defiant and bold.

Christine could feel Erik's hesitation as people passed them on the street. She looked into his eyes for reassurance and lifted her chin a little higher indicating he ought to do the same. Let them see your mask, she thought.

"Good afternoon," she piped to an older gentleman as they rounded a corner. He tipped his hat towards her before noticing Erik.

Erik flinched at the attention. The man passed them with a slightly quicker step than before, but to his credit, did not continue to stare as they passed.

Erik felt himself sweating under his collar. Despite having lived a lifetime of such encounters, he rarely went about with his mask uncovered by a hood in such a public place. Even when he was a cockier young man and experimented on his own with people's social interaction with him, he was always cautious to never push it too far or reveal too much of himself. Erik could still feel that itching need to look for a way out; a dark alley to escape into should trouble arise.

"Christine," he said, stopping between two shops. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable doing this. It's been so long I don't know if I can break my old habits."

Christine felt bad for placing Erik in an uncomfortable situation, but this, she thought, was the price of courting her. She would not be ashamed to be with him, but he would have to be a little more willing to take risks.

"Erik, I'm sorry but this is necessary. You may be used to hiding, but I am not and I certainly don't plan to skulk around in the shadows." She placed a hand on his, clasping it tightly, "You once told me that with me by your side, you would dare to walk freely down the street as any other man. All I'm asking you to do is try."

Erik gazed at her in wonder. Who was this brave creature and what did she do with his little Christine who used to run off and cry in her dressing room when someone was particularly cruel to her.

"How are you doing this Christine?" he wondered.

"What do you mean?"

"You are suddenly so brave, and at expense of your own reputation," he said.

Christine grinned, "I'm not that brave. It's called acting," she said.

Erik realized she was faking her confidence. "You could have fooled me."

"Erik, how else do you think I've stood up for myself? If people at the opera think I'm not an easy target, with the exception of a few, they tend to leave me alone."

"I know what you are saying, however, my approach has always been a little more defensive than that," Erik said to her. "If they think I'm a danger to them, they tend to leave me alone, so you will forgive me if your friendly directness is a little difficult for me to handle."

"Just try it, for me. If you act pompous and arrogant like a rich well-to-do, then most people will fear to slight you," Christine said, putting her nose up in the air like La Carlotta.

"Oh, I see. So I simply must pretend I'm the Vicomte de Chagny?" Erik teased.

Christine's eyes lit with mirth, "Erik, he's not that bad. Actually he's rather modest."

"If you say so. Modesty has many subtle levels, my dear and he is not subtle," Erik joked. He gestured for them to continue walking down the street through town. "After you, my prima donna,"

Christine, still holding his hand, feeling the butterflies in her stomach at the warmth, led him once again down the road. She tucked herself slightly behind him to let him lead the way. They passed two young girls who were skipping hand in hand in frilly petticoats under their school frocks. They nearly stumbled when they saw Erik, but when Erik looked at them, they pulled each other aside to whisper and point and giggle.

Erik sighed. "At least they didn't scream and run into the closest building for help," he said dryly.

Christine leaned towards his shoulder and replied, "They are just silly little girls. What do they know of you?" She smiled up at him and squeezed his arm.

They continued this way for half an hour, up one side of the street, the back down the other; parading themselves to the townsfolk with the sole intent of being noticed by them. Erik's tension gradually decreased with every encounter. He began to focus less on their reactions to him, and more on Christine's courageous act. She walked by his side, head held high with a haughtiness rarely seen outside the opera or high society. Her new clothing certainly helped her play the part since they were far more expensive than anything she previously wore. Once or twice he caught her ostentatious glare at anyone who dared stare in their direction for more than a polite moment. He suddenly felt very proud to have such a creature on his arm, even if she was just acting. He knew what it took to put on a face braver than one felt in an uncomfortable situation. She was changing. He still saw the timid reserved ballet rat he once knew when he first laid eyes on her, but more and more, she was becoming a fierce lioness. She would one day truly command the stage with all the inherent power and airs of a genuine Prima Donna. His chest swelled with admiration and love for this girl who had captivated him so. If she had the courage to be his then he owed her the same.

He renewed his hold on her hand, bringing it up to rest in the crook of his arm and led her down the street. He even went so far as to doff his hat at a man sweeping off his front steps and wish him good afternoon; Never mind he nearly dropped the broomstick as he absentmindedly answered back.

Erik finally asked as they neared they place they started from, "Christine, I must admit, this is far easier with you here by my side, but what happens when we are doing more than passing strangers in the street? What happens when we are sitting down to dinner with your friends who know you all too well to believe your little act? How will you cope with that?"

Christine bit her lower lip and thought of it for a moment before answering, "I'm not entirely sure. I was hoping you would have more insight. I suppose we will simply have to see what happens; although I would recommend allowing me to speak privately with certain individuals first before introducing you."

"You mean Raoul, don't you?" Erik muttered derisively.

"Actually I was thinking about Madame Giry. I'm not certain how she will take it to know you are a man of flesh and blood, and not the Opera Ghost who has played so many tricks and illusions on her. It might be best if she never knows who you really were."

"What do you mean 'were'?" Erik asked.

Christine said, "You don't think you can go back to being the Opera Ghost do you?" She took his hand, and with a confidence more than she was used to having, said, "You're no longer him. You're simply my Erik."

Erik flushed under his mask, thankful she could not see how the blood rushed to his face as she called him 'my Erik'. He slowly lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them gently across the back of her glove. "And you are my little Christine."


	22. Intoxication and Boldness

Arm in arm they walked all the way back to the inn, arriving just as the sun was setting over the horizon. Christine begged a respite in her room for the opportunity to change her clothing and shoes and to freshen up. Marie had already seen to delivering their packages to their rooms, both from the carriage and the shop's courier. A pile of boxes and wrappings lay at the foot of the bed. Erik dropped down onto the bed, kicking off his boots as he stretched out, letting them fall to the floor with a dull thud. He pulled off his mask, rubbing his face over and feeling the scratchy stubble starting to grow around his chin. He would have to shave. Luckily he was not one who had to do it often, but he nicked himself just about every time as the blade swept up his cheek to a small ridge of scarring that stood out more than other places.

He rose and replaced his mask and rang for some hot water to be brought to his room, and then got out his razor and shaving kit. Usually he did not make use of a mirror to shave, hating his appearance; however he felt the need to take more care with his toilette now, mask or no. When the maid knocked and brought in the pitcher of steaming water and hot towels, Erik was perusing his purchases. He had told Christine to dress nicely for dinner in her new gown. He got out his fine evening jacket and silk shirt with the silver buttons. He next reached for a round box and slowly lifted the lid off. He had never once owned a top hat. It was rather difficult for him to wear one and still maintain his anonymity, but on a whim he had purchased one this afternoon as he and Christine were parading through town. He placed it on his head experimentally. It would take some getting used to he thought to himself, and placed it back inside the hat box.

He was very relieved to find his flesh toned mask was finally dry enough after the drenching it got in the rain and the cleaning afterward to wear again. He donned the mask, and put his other more noticeable white mask away in his suitcase. He checked his appearance in the mirror looking up and down his person. If it were not for the mask, he would consider himself handsome. The tailor was very precise with his measurements indeed. The suit was cut to perfectly hug his body. The material and stitching were of the finest quality. His money had been put to good use after all. He straightened the pin that held his cravat and removed his hat until he was ready to leave the house, then headed out to the main room to await his beloved.

As he walked down the hallway, he became aware of a din coming from the dining room. Several loud and bawdy voices laughed noisily from behinds the two doors and he could hear the dishware being slammed about on the wooden tables. The serving girl exited the doors, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath. Difficult customers no doubt, Erik thought to himself as he took a chair by the fire. Moments later, Marie came through the room, noticed Erik then motioned him over to the far corner.

"Monsieur Durand," Marie began, sounding flustered. "You and Christine might want to take care. I've had some rather rude guests come to stay a few nights here, but as you can hear by the commotion in the kitchen, I might just have to kick them out. Hopefully I won't be forced to call the gendarmes to have them removed, but if their sober behavior is anything to judge by, I'd hate to see them later tonight after they've tossed back a few." She wrung her hands together agitatedly.

"I understand Mme. Beauchamp. Thank you for the warning," Erik replied.

She looked him over with an approving eye, "You look very well this evening."

"Thank you," He said.

She winked at him, then with an exasperated sigh, turned towards the dining room to deal with her guests.

Erik waited a short while longer, feeling the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering as he thought of Christine and their present circumstance. He still could not believe he was actually courting her. Her gentle touches on his arm and hand today were not lost on him. He recalled the sensations vividly. He could still feel the warmth of her hand pressed into his own and the feeling of her body held against his own as he embraced her in the restaurant.

He was lost in these thoughts when Christine came down the stairs.

Erik was at a loss for words. The seamstress had been dead right about her dress. He had to consciously close his jaw as he quickly stood to greet her, holding his hat in his quavering hands. Christine descended the stairs, her hand trailing lightly along the rail in long satin gloves. Erik's eyes followed the buttons up the back of her hand, to her exposed elbows, to the ruffled collar of the dress that fell across her breastbone revealing the small hollow at her neck where the necklace he had given her rested against cool pale skin. Beading rustled against the satin train as it trailed behind her slightly on the stairs. Christine's hair was pinned up behind her head with a silver comb and her dark eyes sparkled in the lamplight as she looked down to where he waited.

"Good evening, Erik," she said softly.

Erik finally found the words, "Good evening," but they only came out as a whisper. He knew not a man alive could resist such a creature, and here she was, reaching for his hand. He took it, gently kissing her glove, smelling the perfume on her wrist. She was intoxicating.

He donned his hat then moved behind her to help her into her new velvet lined cloak. He let his fingers trace the flesh at her collar as he did the clasp, secretly breathing the scent of her hair as he did. Gently taking her arm through his, he led them out the door to the waiting carriage. After ordering the driver to take them to the nicest restaurant in town, he took the seat next to her this time, keeping his hands on his hat in his lap. He did not dare leave them free to wander, for now he was allowed simple touch between them, he knew he would not be able to control himself.

'Slow,' he breathed to himself, 'I must take this slowly.' The rocking of the carriage gave him something else to concentrate on. Christine's scent filled the air of the cab, making it nearly impossible to breathe without wanting to envelop her into his arms and kiss her.

Christine wished she wore a mask as they sat together in the dimly lit cab of the carriage. She was sure Erik could see her blushing. She tried desperately to still the beating of her heart and thought she would die of asphyxiation between the tightness of her corset and her attempts to keep her breaths quiet. The way Erik had looked at her as she walked down the stairs made her nearly faint. She knew how she looked to herself in the mirror before she came down, but seeing how Erik regarded her told her how she truly appeared to him. Although naïve in the subject of the bedroom, a part of her knew that had they been alone, they might never have left the Inn that evening. For the first time in days since the unexpected events of the storm and the awkward moments of tension they had shared, she could once again feel the intensity of his desire for her. It was maddening. She felt so completely anxious, not knowing when he might boldly attempt something else to push the boundaries of their relationship. Had she truly been venturesome, she would attempt something herself, but she was really still afraid of the unknown and had no idea how to approach him.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. His new clothing was becoming and truly suited him. This was the first time she had seen him without a hood covering his head out in public. His dark hair curled slightly around the base of his neck underneath the tiny strap of his mask. She found herself wishing she could run her fingers through it without the barrier of gloves.

The carriage wound around the streets of town, past the lit lamps and small apartment houses with firelight flickering in the windows. Sounds of children playing and a dog barking made its way to them as they passed through a small residential part of town. The horses strained to pull the carriage up the small hill to a brick building with large front windows and gas lamps burning next to the front door. The driver pulled his team around and stepped down to open the door for them to exit.

Erik stepped out first then helped Christine down. He gave the man the coins and asked if he wouldn't stay for the evening. He seemed grateful for once again gaining Erik's services and gratuity and drove the carriage behind the building to wait out the night. Erik took Christine on his arm and led them inside.

'Just keep acting,' he reminded himself. He took a deep breath and continued.

He took on the most pompous attitude he though possible as they passed the doorman. A younger couple stood just in front of them, speaking to the maître d'. The young lady turned behind to see them, smiled at Christine then noticed Erik. She wavered a moment, struck by his bearing, then turned back to her partner, her head itching for a second look. She seemed to notice his mask only secondarily.

Erik stepped forward as the younger couple was led into the dining room. He heard music being played in the next room as the doors parted. The host was taken aback by Erik's mask, as he removed his hat and coat for the doorman to take.

"Er," he stammered, "How do you do? My name is M. Renald and I welcome you to Le Manoir D' Archelles," he managed to say after a moment of confusion.

Erik did his best to take on the persona he imagined Raoul having; nonchalant and arrogant. "We would like the best table in the house, preferably near a window."

"Certainly sir," Monsieur Renald replied. He figured this rich gentleman must be playing at his own masquerade. He had seen more abnormal behavior before. "Fernand will show you to your table." He snapped his fingers to a young man waiting nearby. Fernand went pale, but then visibly shrugged his shoulders to himself as he dismissed Erik's eccentricity and led them to a table in the corner of the room adjacent to the small raised platform where the musicians played their instruments softly.

Fernand was about to pull out Christine's chair, but Erik gave him a dismissal and moved to do it himself. Despite his courage in showing his mask so openly, he could not help but choose the chair that faced mostly away from the rest of the room. He did this not only to prevent scrutiny on his own person, but to give the limelight to Christine who so richly deserved the attention tonight. She sat framed with the window at her back, a potted floral arrangement stood on a pedestal at her corner and the moon winked between clouds beyond her. He knew that from the vantage of most of the room, they would appear a normal couple enjoying a meal. The sting quartet played softly enough to be enjoyable but not distracting.

"Christine, you look absolutely stunning tonight," Erik began. He felt a complete fool for not complimenting her earlier. The words did not seem appropriate enough to describe how delectably beautiful and innocent and tempting she appeared. He felt a hunger that had nothing at all to do with his appetite.

"Thank you Erik," Christine said as she blushed. "You look very handsome tonight. I must say I prefer your choice of apparel tonight to your usual heavy hood."

"Well, as you put it this afternoon, if I act arrogant enough, perhaps people will be less likely to offend."

Christine agreed with an incline of her head.

The waiter came over and introduced himself then began rattling off a list of the dinner specialties. Erik paid no attention. His focus could not be broken from Christine. She sat listening to the stream of choices issuing from the waiter with her hands folded politely in her lap.

"Erik, what would you like?" she said. He had not heard a single word.

To save himself he replied, "I'll have what you're ordering."

She ordered the roast pheasant and the chilled pumpkin soup to start. Erik thought to himself he probably wouldn't touch the soup, but the pheasant sounded delicious. Erik also ordered a bottle of the best wine in the house to be brought to the table.

Christine fingered her napkin and started arranging her silverware. 'Why am I so nervous,' she wondered. She had been to dinner with Erik a few times before, but this time felt so different. Perhaps it was the fancy clothing, or the rich atmosphere. She couldn't put her finger on it, but then it dawned on her. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them to focus on her surroundings and everything around her excluding Erik's mask. Aside from the small detail of that tanned leather covering his skin, she felt as though she were the mistress of a very wealthy patron; something most of her friends in the ballet corps only dreamed about. She nearly had that with Raoul, but for whatever reason, she resisted that connection to him. Although he was familiar to her, it felt too brotherly and despite the status it would have driven her to, she felt she did not fit into his world. Being here with Erik in this way came with the entire honorarium but none of the social pressure as there was with Raoul's friends.

"Christine?" Erik queried. "You seem to be quiet. Is anything the matter?"

"No, Erik," she replied a little withdrawn. "I was just thinking and enjoying the evening with you. I really cannot express my gratitude for all you do for me."

"If it is within my power to make you happy then I will do anything. But I must profess I believe you have done more for me, than I for you. If it were not for you, I would still be alone and recluse living in the cellar of the Opera. Instead here I sit with you in a very public place, dining as any another couple would." He paused, curious, "What were you thinking about?"

Christine was reluctant to mention Raoul; she did not wish to spoil Erik's mood tonight. "I was just thinking how happy I am to have met you. I feel I can be myself around you without the need to put on airs."

The waiter returned with the bottle of wine, held it out for Erik to inspect then poured a tasting into a glass. After swishing it around in his mouth, Erik nodded for him to pour a glass for Christine. Another man came by with their soup in quick succession.

Christine took advantage of the distraction of the food to calm the jitters she was feeling when she looked across the table at Erik. After the previous evening's nervous apprehension, then her impassioned mistake of Erik's little surprise, she was shocked to find herself just as nervous this evening as she was in times before. She thought surely this should be more anticlimactic simply courting instead of a rush to engagement. However, she felt different tonight. Today had literally been night and day. By day Erik was reserved and careful, but by night, he was another creature entirely. Under the cloak of darkness, he always seemed more powerful and formidable. Now, stripped of his usual protections of disguise and heavy clothing, he radiated ascendancy. She knew he must be acting, as she was this afternoon, but unlike her, he had had years of practice, however seldom he used it. Although the truth was far from it; Erik seemed to be forgetting the presence of other people when he was around her. She hardly noticed anyone else in the room aside from him either.

They chatted about the opera and other inconsequential things while they ate their other courses of the meal. The wine in their glasses seemed to magically refill themselves, as intent as they were in each other's attention and not on the serving staff. Christine realized they had drunk more than one bottle of wine when the flavor suddenly changed to something more open bodied and sweet. She felt her ears warming and her face flush with the alcohol.

Although far from being drunk, she was very relaxed and felt bold enough to propose a request to Erik that had been itching at her since they arrived, "Erik," she began, "will you dance with me?"

Erik nearly dropped his fork on the edge of his plate. He thought about it for a moment then replied, "I don't think so, Christine."

Christine lowered her head, disappointed. Wasn't that what couple's did after dinner? She had danced with friends at the Opera at the company parties, but had never had a single dance partner to call her own.

"Do you not know how?" Christine asked.

"No Christine. I can dance, but this evening has gone so wonderfully I do not wish to embarrass you with everyone staring at me," Erik replied honestly.

"Please, Erik, just one dance. If the other's make us uncomfortable I swear we can leave immediately after," she pointed out. "Look, there are four other couples dancing already and the lights are rather dim in the middle of the room. Perhaps they won't even notice."

Erik hesitated, then bowed his head to her and stood offering his hand to lead her to the floor. Christine gladly accepted it and did her best to ignore everyone else in the room. Surely there would be some scandalous gossip tonight after they departed.

The space set aside for dancing was not very large, but it could accommodate a few couples in a waltz at a time. Erik stayed close to the outer edge of the floor and took Christine's small frame into his grasp. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder and felt his hand wrap around her waist slightly more than was appropriate. She was not about to complain. Erik at least kept a respectable distance between their bodies as he swept her up into a simple waltz in time with the music.

Christine's dancer's feet stepped lightly in time with the music, focusing on the way Erik's body moved in perfect synchronization with hers. She caught a glimpse of another older woman dancing who made a disgusted face at seeing Erik's mask as they twirled around. The next time they passed the couple she gave her a dirty look back and gripped Erik's hand tighter. She stepped closer to his body thinking 'I'll give her something to be disgusted about'. Christine heard Erik's gasp as she did so and tried to separate them a little further, but she held him tight with her satin gloved fingers gripping his shoulder like a vise. She marveled in his grace and fluidity and wondered where he had learned to dance so well; She would have to ask him later about it.

The music ended and there was a thin patter of clapping that came from the dining room and the others on the dance floor. Erik relinquished his hold on her waist, but did not let go of her. They stood together, hands clasped between them, looking into each other's eyes.

"We should probably go," Erik said softly. He suddenly wanted to be away from prying eyes with her.

Christine agreed with an inclination of her head towards their table. They gathered up her small purse and asked the waiter to retrieve their cloaks while Erik settled the bill. M. Renald seemed all too happy that they were leaving, but could not be so pompous when Erik paid the bill twice over.

Christine's eyes went wide as she saw the amount of money he slipped into waiting hands. As they exited and the doorman called to have their cab pulled around Christine queried, "Why so much?"

Erik replied, "I tend to have less trouble returning to a place I've enjoyed if I make it worth their while." He took Christine's cloak and once again placed it around her shoulders from behind. Erik impulsively stooped his head down to once again smell her hair and found he could not resist from placing a small kiss on her shoulder. It was so slight he doubted she felt it but nonetheless, he reeled at the scent of her perfume and the warmth of her skin through the fabric touching his lips. It burned there momentarily and he found he could not willingly remove his hand from her other shoulder. He took a chance and wrapped his arm around her to rest on her collarbone while his other hand came to embrace her waist.

Christine stood frozen to the spot, overwhelmed by the sensations she was feeling. Try as she might, she could not convince herself to argue the impropriety of their embrace. She was drunk with the pleasure derived from being held in his arms. She silently begged his lips to descend once more to the place where her shoulder and neck met, just as he had done in her dream, but just then, their carriage pulled around to the front. Erik's arms released her and he took her hand and led her into it.


	23. Goodnight and Goodmorning

Christine sighed as the she listened to the clatter of horses hooves on the paved street. By her side sat Erik, her hand gently wrapped in his. She was apprehensive to break the silence for fear it would cause her to babble nonsensically just to fill the silence. The quiet was more dignified and profound in the darkness of the cab. The tension between them was palpable and far from negative. His cologne filled her nostrils with its rich musk. When she looked at him his regard of her was smoldering in his eyes and she had to shyly look away. Christine knew this was what she wanted from him, but she was overwhelmed by his intensity sometimes.

They heard the carriage wheels crackle over the gravel drive to the inn as they left the main road from town. Christine knew they would be back in a matter of moments. What then, she wondered? Say goodnight and separate to their rooms until morning? Or would the evening continue long into the night? Christine's heart flip flopped at the implications of that thought. She could see the lights on in a few rooms of the Inn, but she prayed the main room of the house would be empty of guests.

The carriage pulled to a stop just in front next to the garden. She could smell the flowers starting to bloom their early spring buds in the pale moonlight. Christine waited for Erik to step down and help her out of the cab, but he still sat motionless next to her. She could feel his hand still gently clutching hers with no sign he was letting go.

"Erik? Is anything the matter?" she asked after a few moments of silently sitting in the dark waiting for him to stand.

"Christine, did you have a good time this evening?" he asked, ignoring her question.

She looked into his eyes and answered, "Yes, of course I did. Dinner was marvelous and I still cannot believe you had the courage to dance with me in front of a room full of people."

Erik felt brave in the comfortable darkness inside the carriage; he could hardly see her face so he knew his was obscured even more. He turned on the seat lightly to clasp her other hand, holding both hers captive. "I think I surprised myself by doing that. You are changing things for me Christine; so many things I did not think possible to change." He paused to swallow the hard lump forming in his throat. "Christine," he paused again, "I…"

The drive chose that moment to clear his throat loudly.

Erik looked up in extreme annoyance. He could murder their driver for interrupting.

"Erik, what? You were saying?" Christine invited him to continue.

"I," he hesitated. "I think we should go inside and let this man seek his bed."

Christine exhaled the breath she held, disappointed he would not continue. Erik rose and stepped down, then helped her out of the carriage. He shot the driver a look of venom and daggers before leading Christine inside the Inn.

As Christine had suspected, it was late enough that the common room was empty and deserted of guests for the night. She could hear a few voices muffled behind closed doors down the hallway and the slight din of the serving staff working in the kitchen preparing the morning's bread. The hearth fire popped and sizzled with low flames that still desperately licked the last fuel in the wood. Aside from those sounds, all was very quiet. She realized the enormity of the fact that they were alone as the front door closed behind them with a soft click.

Erik stood silently with his back to the door as she turned to face him and wish him goodnight. His hand clenched the edge of his cloak tightly while the other gripped the brim of his hat at his side. Every muscle in his body was taunt and still except his eyes. They reflected the dim light from the fireplace embers, flames dancing in their darkness.

She swore he could hear her heart beating in her throat. She knew what he had wanted to say in the carriage. She could see it in his eyes. 'I love you too' she thought. He had once professed his feelings to her after he revealed himself to be a real man, not who she thought was her angel of music. Somehow, the meaning of those words had changed. Perhaps it was because she too felt it now. Perhaps she had never truly believed the depth of his admission.

He slowly stepped forward; just one step to close the distance between them. She could almost feel his breath on her face. With a trembling hand, he reached up to cup her cheek. His lips lowered toward hers ever so carefully, but just before they touched he paused and whispered, "May I kiss you?"

She did not answer with words as she tilted her head up to close the distance between their lips.

Erik's mind ceased all functional thought. Knowing he was kissing her was the only coherent cognition possible. Her lips were soft and pliable against his own. The shock of pleasure overwhelmed his senses to where he was frozen to the spot; only his lips and the hand gently cupping the face he kissed were capable of movement.

Christine forgot to breathe, forgot to move, and forgot everything else in the world but Erik's mouth gently pressed to her own. She did not know how, but somehow she brought her hands to rest on his chest and slid one up past his shoulder to rest on the back of his neck. So slight was the touching pressure of his lips. She had seen other couple's kiss in the dark hallways of the opera and knew this was by far the most chaste, but surely something so powerful could never compare to those lustful tangling of mouths and limbs. She could taste the sweetness of his mouth as his lips slightly parted.

It seemed an eternity for them both, but finally Erik withdrew his kiss from her. He stared deeply into her eyes before closing his own, squeezing out the tears that formed there and resting his masked forehead against her own. Christine shuddered a long needed breath, feeling her chest tighten against her corset. A low ache emanated from beneath her stomach that throbbed into wakening.

Erik shuddered a long ragged gasp for air as he realized the significance of what they just shared. Softly the tears fell against his mask, pooling against the leather and wetting his face beneath it. He felt so ashamed to fall apart in front of Christine. He wrapped his arms around Christine and held her close, trying to quell the tremors that overtook him.

"Oh Christine," he whispered into her hair. "Nobody has ever kissed me before." She could hardly make out the words as he buried his face against her and squeezed her tighter to him. "My sweet Angel, I love you so much," he cried softly.

She closed her eyes, swooning as she heard those words from his lips once again. Christine held him close, surprised to see him so completely undone by such a simple act. Did he not realize it was mutual?

"Erik, did you forget that I have never been kissed either? No kiss like this anyhow," she replied. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, torn between the need to comfort him and continue what he started with that kiss. After a small time, his tears ceased and he withdrew from her arms. He lifted his mask to wipe his face of the dampness. Christine stood by so he could compose himself once again.

"We should probably go to bed," Christine said.

Erik heard those words from her mouth and got the wrong idea. "No, Christine, not like this."

Christine was confused then realized a second too late what she had said. She blurted, "No, that isn't what I meant!" she laughed nervously. "What I meant to say was that we should retire to our rooms."

Erik, embarrassed that he thought she would initiate such a thing, immediately apologized, "I am so sorry Christine. I would never suggest… I know you were not insinuating…" he couldn't finish.

Christine smiled, took his hand and said, "I know that. It was my mistake for saying it." She grasped his hands once again and said, "Well, goodnight then, Erik."

"Goodnight Christine," he replied. He didn't move to leave. Neither did she.

"Would it be too forward to ask for a goodnight kiss?" Christine said shyly.

Erik did not have to be asked twice. He leaned in quickly, letting his strong hands pull her in tightly as he once again kissed her, this time his lips a little more forceful and hungry. Their first kiss had been a timid exploration. This kiss was the starting promise of things to come. Christine held him close, pulling the fabric of his cloak towards her as her lips moved softly on his. She experimentally parted her lips slightly and carefully flicked her tongue out. Erik's sharp intake of breath was her reward. He daringly mimicked her movement, tasting her lips experimentally. Their tongues passed briefly and sent shockwaves of pleasure through them both. He kissed her a long while, reveling in the feeling and taste of her and the unexpected gratification of their shared experience.

After a few more moments they broke apart, Christine's eyes were wide in amazement. Her lips were swollen and wet and her cheeks were flush. He beamed at her in the dim light never thinking he could know such great satisfaction in making this young creature react to him in such a way. He parted from her, and said, "I suppose we should both get some sleep."

She gave him an odd smirk and said, "I believe you are right."

He turned to go down the hall to his room, but she held onto his hand. He looked at her in bewilderment, then looked at her hand holding onto his. She grinned at him oddly, then started to walk towards the stairs, never letting go of his fingertips. The angel in him screamed at his feet to stop; to not follow. But the devil in him got the better of him and followed her up the stairs. She opened the door to her room and the dim light of a single lantern shone within. As she started to enter, he stopped at the door and whispered, "Christine, as much as I could dream for this, it isn't proper." He cursed his better judgment for making such a call, but he would not take what was not properly his.

She turned to face him and said quietly, "You suggested we get some sleep, and I am not implying anything but." She sheepishly added, "Its nothing we haven't already done together this week, and I am not ready to end my night with you, however tired I may be."

He swallowed the thickness in his throat and the butterflies in his stomach once again took flight as he followed her into her room and closed the door behind them. Christine walked over to the dressing table and turned the lantern down very low.

Erik's throat felt very dry as he croaked out, "Should I remain clothed as I am?" He could scarcely believe he had needed to ever ask such a question. It struck him as absurdly funny and he almost laughed out loud save for the nervousness he felt.

Christine replied, "Just be comfortable, please."

Erik exhaled loudly and started to remove his cloak and jacket. He opted to leave his mask, shirt, and trousers on. As he was removing the boots from his feet, Christine stepped behind a dressing curtain in the corner. He sat on the edge of the bed, hardly able to trust he was really here. He waited for Christine to emerge, but after a moment or two it dawned on him, "Christine, do you need help?"

Christine laughed slightly, "Yes please. Do not ask me why I thought I could remove this thing myself."

Erik's feet almost refused to work to carry him across the room. Christine stepped out for him to help her and turned around to face the wall. "Just undo the top few buttons and I think I can get it from there."

Erik stepped towards her, his hands felt like cold dead weights at his side. This was the second time he had helped her undress this week but not even closely under the same circumstances. The first time it had been out of sheer necessity. This time he knew it was because he had been invited to the room of the woman he loved with the prospect of sharing her bed, no matter how innocently.

His hands shook as he undid the buttons, slowly popping them through the buttonholes one by one. They trailed down her back, refusing to stop at the requested few she had mentioned. Christine felt his hands continue down her spine until they reached her waist and stopped. She knew she should have stopped him and was tempting fate but at the moment she hardly cared. She felt his warm hands slid up her back and just under the edge of her dress at her shoulders. He gently pushed it forward so it fell down her arms. She crossed her arms over her breasts to catch the garment from falling any further. As much as she wished to stand there, she knew she was playing with fire and was dangerously close to burning herself.

She murmured, "Thank you," then slipped off behind the curtain once again to finish removing the dress and hang it over the edge.

When she emerged, she was only wearing a robe over her delicate chemise. She had managed to remove her corset by herself after much debating over whether to leave it on or not. Erik was waiting at the edge of the bed for her. She crossed the room and blew out the lantern leaving them in total darkness. Erik could hear her bare feet pad across the wooden floor and rugs. He could just make out her shape in the dim moonlight that peeked its way through the half opened curtains.

Erik lay down on the bed on top of the coverlet. If he was going to share a bed and not be so terribly tempted he was better off putting as many barriers between them as possible. He held the blanket open for Christine to crawl underneath beside him. She carefully lay down next to him, surprised to find he was not beneath the blankets as well. She was too nervous to argue and was secretly glad for the restraint Erik showed. What he must think of her, she wondered? She curled onto her side with her back to Erik and felt him settle down close to her, tucking the blanket all around her tiny form. Erik rested his arm around her shoulders and curled up tenderly behind her, cupping her body with his own. She sighed feeling the weight and warmth of his body next to hers in the comfort of her soft bed. This is what she had wished for.

"Goodnight, Erik," she said softly.

"Good morning Christine," Erik replied into her ear.

With that they fell blissfully asleep snuggled close to one another in the early hours of the new day.


	24. Scandal and Gossip

Erik awoke in the early hours of the morning while the sunlight was barely starting to peek above the horizon. He nearly startled himself out of bed to wake and find he was still in Christine's room and bed. Last night had not been a dream after all! He had truly slept by her side all night and, dear god, he had kissed her. He never dreamed anything could be more painfully exquisite than kissing the woman he loved.

He saw her in the dim light, curled under her blanket, now facing him with her small fists balled next to his chest and breathing lightly through softly parted lips. Erik could hardly believe he was able to fall asleep last night, much less so quickly. The tension of having to restrain himself from doing with her what he could only dream of had been the hardest temptation he had ever faced. In the end his morality and conscious reasoning won out in that had he continued to remove her clothing as his body screamed at him to do, she might have pushed him out of the room for going farther than she invited and he would never have known the pleasure of sleeping in comfort with her in his arms.

He was unable to resist, however, dreaming and fantasizing in his sleep. When he awoke, he was faced with a rather embarrassing situation and prayed Christine would not awaken until he was able to gain control of his body's natural impulses. It took a long time. As he lay there, he knew he should probably be gone from her room before the rest of the household stirred. The servants might catch a glimpse of him returning to his own room, but if he was stealthy enough he might avoid detection. He had to try at least, for Christine's sake and reputation. As much as he was loathing leaving her bed, wishing he could instead stay there all day long, he knew he had to leave.

He brushed the curls back from Christine's face gently and kissed her forehead, listening to her sleepy murmur, continuing to caress her shoulder and down her back. She was so beautiful as she slept, he hated to wake her up, but she stirred at his touch and blinked her eyes open.

"Good morning my love," Erik crooned.

"Good morning," Christine said dreamily. She yawned and stretched next to him. "What time is it?" she asked as she squinted at the light starting to peek in the window.

"It's quite early still," he replied. "I thought it would be best if I leave before the house awakens."

Christine gave a moan of protest, "Must you go?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I've already risked enough by staying here tonight, however little I regret it."

Christine blew between her lips and curled into his arms tighter, "Who cares? Nobody here knows who we are and we will never see them again."

Erik was shocked at her devil-may-care attitude. "What of Marie?" He leaned on his elbow as he looked down at Christine's face, tracing her cheek with the tip of his finger.

Christine looked up at him and said, "You don't know her very well. If she knew she would probably give me a short lecture on propriety, then wink at me before she left the room."

Erik laughed softly, "Still, I think I should be going, regardless. If any servant sees me the whole house will know in minutes. If there's one thing I know about servants it's that they are horrible gossips for scandal."

Christine groaned again then sighed, "I supposed you're right." She sat up in bed, running her hands through her disheveled hair. "I'll wait awhile before I ring for the maid."

Erik nodded then got up out of the bed smoothly. He took off his mask and rubbed his face.

"Doesn't it bother you to sleep with that on?" Christine asked.

"It's not the most comfortable thing, but I'm used to it," he replied as he used some leftover water from the basin.

"You should have taken it off last night. I did say for you to be comfortable."

Erik looked at her after he replaced the mask on his face, "No matter how many times you say you are comfortable seeing me without it, it's still difficult for me. I hope you understand."

"I do, Erik."

He gathered up his coat and hat after putting his boots back on. Then he laughed, "I never thought I would ever be skulking out of a women's room in the wee hours of the morning."

Christine laughed, "At least you don't have to worry about another man discovering you here."

He smiled at her as his hand was on the door.

"I would kiss you good morning, but I've terrible morning breath," Christine said, covering her mouth.

Erik crossed the room and placed a gentle kiss on her lips anyway. "Do you really think that something like that would stop me?"

She acted horrified that he would kiss her then, but she blushed and felt the chills go up her spine as he did so. He turned and opened the door silently, then shut it without a sound behind him.

Erik quietly made his way downstairs, being very careful to avoid being seen. One of the maids saw him just as he was entering his room, but he was sure he hadn't seen where he had spent the night. If anybody asked, he could say he was out for a very early morning stroll, or that he had just returned back after a very long night. A very long night indeed, he thought.

As he changed his clothing and washed, he couldn't help but let his mind wander. Christine certainly shocked him by inviting him to her room last night. Even if they did not do what he most desired, she had taken a bold step forward, one he would never have thought possible of her. He could only pray she did not regret doing so. She was so very embarrassed at her behavior earlier in the week, how would she act now after such a blatant statement?

He could hear people moving around outside in the hall. A few guests were rising early to the dining room for their breakfast. He debated on waiting in his room a long while before joining them. He decided to wait quite awhile before going there himself. After what seemed like forever, he heard Christine's voice speaking with Marie down the hall, her voice chirping above the usual din of the room.

He joined them in the dining room. Christine was already seated at a small table by the fireplace with a mug of hot tea in front of her. Marie was just hurrying off to the kitchen but not before she gave him an odd look.

"Oh, no," Erik groaned, "Don't tell me she saw me."

Christine motioned for him to sit down, "No, I don't think so. But I'm sure she suspects something. I'll have a little chat with her later about it so she isn't thinking you and I did something last night," she said in a whisper.

Erik whispered back, "But we did do something last night Christine. And as far as anyone else who might have seen me come or go from your room last night, it was more than just sleeping." He sat back in his chair as he saw the serving girl come over to see what they wanted for breakfast. They ordered quickly then waited for her to be out of earshot before continuing their conversation.

"I'm still not worried about it. Like I said this morning, who are we going to see again?" Christine said in a hushed voice.

"Perhaps you're right, but as far as our stay goes here, it might make things uncomfortable. Maybe we should find lodging somewhere else," Erik suggested.

"Or we could return to Paris a little early as you originally planned," Christine replied.

Erik looked at her panic stricken. "If that's what you want," he said unsure, his voice threatening to crack. He was definitely not ready to return to Paris yet, not after last night.

"No, of course it isn't what I want, but it's certainly an option."

He agreed then changed the subject as their food was brought out to them. By the end of their short meal, Erik deduced that everyone working at the Inn knew he slept in Christine's room that night. He recognized the stares and hushed whispers to be directed more at Christine than him today. No doubt they were spreading rumors of who she was and what her relationship to Erik was. Either the maid who saw him enter his room this morning had talked, or they were seen last night when neither one of them was paying attention to anything but each other.

Erik quickly finished his breakfast, wanting to get out of the house for the day. Gossip was usually short lived enough. Perhaps if they did not repeat their actions last night, the staff would forget about it and move on to some other juicy tidbit. He and Christine were just about to leave for a morning stroll, but Marie saw them exiting the dining room and chased them down before they could go.

"A word with you monsieur?" Marie called to them, waving a hand for them to wait.

Christine did not wish to hear a lecture this morning so she announced, "I forgot my gloves. I'll be right back," while giving Erik and apologetic look as she swept off up the stairs to her room to pretend to retrieve them.

Erik didn't blame her, but he was completely unprepared with any sort of defense, having never dreamed he would be in such a position to need one.

"Yes, Mme. Beauchamp?" he said politely as she approached him.

"I wanted to let you know before you left the house for the morning that your window has been repaired in the upstairs room and if you wish I can have my maid transfer your belongings back into it."

Erik breathed a pent up breath of relief. "That would be fine."

Marie slyly added, "Of course, if there is no need, I could rent it out to another patron…" she drifted off suggestively.

Erik knew she was privy to the fact he spent the night in her room. "No, I assure you, there is still a need for a room to myself." His answer brooked no argument and told her he was aware of the insinuation.

Marie nodded then added in a hushed voice, "I'm not one to pry into people's private business, but Christine is a dear sweet girl with nobody to speak for her as a guardian. If your intentions are anything but honorable…"

"Madame, let me reassure your fears," Erik cut her off. "I have not sullied Christine's innocence nor do I intend to."

"I'm glad to hear that," Marie replied skeptically.

Christine returned down the stairs just then, gloves in hand. "Shall we go out for our morning stroll?" she asked Erik and reached for his arm.

Erik took it and they turned to leave, nodding good day to Marie, but before they could walk through the door, Marie said, "Christine, I'll do my best to quiet the staff's rumors but the next time you invite a gentleman to your room, make sure nobody sees you do it."

Erik and Christine's jaws dropped.

"Have a good morning!" Marie trilled and waltzed back into the kitchen laughing out loud at the looks on their faces.

Outside in the garden Erik exclaimed, "My God that woman is sassy!"

Christine simply laughed and tugged his arm towards the path that led to the cliffs.


	25. Exposed and Dangerous

Erik and Christine strolled down the cliff side path to the beach. Christine found she not only did not need her gloves, but that her cloak was unnecessary as well since the sun was rising higher in the sky and the day felt unseasonably warm. Erik removed his overcoat and draped it over his arm along with her cloak. He took her arm and led her along, feeling her gentle grasp of his forearm in her small hand.

His mind wandered dangerously as they walked. Last night he had been driven nearly out of his mind by her unseemly actions. She had allowed him to kiss her. Dear sweet God he finally kissed a woman. And not just any woman, he had kissed his little Christine; his Angel of Music. How any simple gesture could be received as so pleasurable was beyond his comprehension, but there was. The one thing he had craved beyond reason for so many years of his life had finally been granted to him. And she had eagerly kissed him back, pressing her lithe body against his wantonly.

No! He could not think of her like that, as if she were some knowing trollop sent to tease and torment him. She was more innocent than he, despite their equal level of inexperience; he was many years her senior and had been wanting for that level of closeness to another human being for far longer than she had been aware of the other sex. She could not possibly know what she was doing to him, and he had to be the older mature one of them. He could not allow accusations such as those the inn's staff were no doubted repeating to each other right now, to reach her reputation in Paris if she were to be an honest and respected singer at the opera. Most chorus girls were regarded as nothing more than whores who happened to entertain the wealthier patrons of the theater society. Were Christine to be regarded as such, she would never aspire to the stage to take her place among the greatest singers beheld there. He could not let that happen. There were more problems than that to think of once they returned. It would be hard enough for her to aspire to be anything other than the crazy girl who ran away with the opera ghost once he showed up on her arm. He still dreaded having to face that dilemma, but for the time being, he had more difficult things to consider. Like how to keep himself from losing control with her physically when she was being so damned innocently alluring!

They reached the steps that led down to the beach and he released her hand so she could lead them down. She blushed and smiled back at him before walking down the stone cut steps carefully lifting her skirt.

His mind drifted back to every action of the previous evening replaying them over and over, specifically the parts after arriving back at the inn. Christine insisted that inviting him to sleep in her bed was innocent and something they had already done before in the dilapidated church. Did she truly think it was so innocent to have a man share her bed or was she so naïve to not know or realize what implications were sent to his conscious mind and subconscious will by doing so? He knew Christine was a child at heart, always believing in fairy tales. In those make believe stories, the fairy that spirited away the young girl, never took advantage of her. Did she know what went on in the bedrooms of the other chorus girls after hours when the patrons were supposed to have gone home? If the girl had ears she would be able to hear the moaning that echoes in the halls late at night and from secluded areas that are seldom frequented. Last night he fought with himself using every shred of decency and self control he possessed to not have his way with her. His knees trembled and he nearly fainted when he helped her undress. The sight of her willing body standing before him, watching his own hands undo the buttons down her dress to reveal her lacey chemise beneath had caused his loins to harden to the point of pain. His mouth had gone dry from nervousness. The overwhelming lust he felt as she curled next to him in her bed had nearly sent him over the edge. He feared for her safety from himself when he came so dangerously close to losing control. His mouth watered when he thought of tasting her skin, not just her mouth, but the rest of her body as well. From the bawdy songs sung in taverns and the romantic novels he tortured himself to read from time to time, he knew a woman's taste to be described as sweet and like nothing else. He was hungry for her and not in just one way.

As Erik watched her walk in front of him down the stone steps, he felt himself turning hard as a rock inside his trousers and the intense throb return as he thought of what she might taste like if he were to tear the clothing from her soft pale body and sample her skin with his tongue. As he caught himself staring at her form moving so femininely before him, he slipped on the dry sand that covered the stairs. He caught himself on the rocky ledge and scraped his hand and cursed, not because he was injured, but because he was sure that the bulge in the front of his pants was the most noticeable part of his body right now.

Christine turned quickly to as she heard his low swear. "Are you alright?" she asked.

He turned to the side to hide his embarrassing tent then proceeded to brush the smear of blood on his dark trousers. He sat for a moment, adjusting his coat to cover himself then righted and stood. "I'm fine, my dear. Perhaps you should walk behind me, as you are such a distraction," he teased, praying she did not hear the tremor in his voice.

She smiled coquettishly and continued on ahead of him, and he swore she was taking the extra effort to sashay her hips at him. She had to know she was driving him mad, and a small part of him felt guilty for it, but the rest was curious to see what she would do if his extreme self control were tested beyond its limits and failed. Despite the temptation she had lay before him he had not done anything to her that she was not more than ready to accept. He knew, as he watched her before him, it was only a matter of time before the swelling urge to sate his lust would become too much for him to take. Then what, he wondered?

He knew the answers to that question and he didn't like either one. He would either have to tear his soul out and leave, or suffer the consequences of the damage he would cause to her innocent mind when he ravaged her like the monster he felt he was. Neither situation was acceptable, but he felt deep within that, despite kissing him, there was no way in heaven or hell she would submit to being his lover. Even if she was willing to allow him to one day share her bed in all ways, did she even know what that meant? Would she be frightened and change her mind? And if so, could he stop himself once they started down that slippery slope should she suddenly refuse? No, he knew he would rather die than hurt her, but he feared his own desire would trump her protestations.

So far she had blown all his expectations clearly out of the water and he never imagined she would allow him to court her, let alone kiss her. He had to wonder if it was all a game to her. Was she just playing at being in a relationship and doing what she thought was expected of her? Surely the gossip of the other ballet dancers at the opera would have led her to believe what she must do if a patron ever showed interest in her. She would have to act demure and appreciative and enjoy the gentleman's company, then perhaps allow him a goodnight kiss at the end of the evening. Was that all she had been doing last night? Did her invitation to her room mean anything to her, or had she simply been playing her part? Or perhaps she did it out of pity for him. The horrible doubts crept back into his mind once again. Perhaps she was simply being nice to her poor tortured Erik. Perhaps when this week was over she would change her mind and thank him nicely for the lovely vacation, then run off with the Vicompte de Chagny.

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out onto the sand, Erik's emotions had run the entire range from lusty to endearing, to doubtful, then rage and loneliness. As his feet touched the sand, he was suddenly in an incredibly foul mood, which the heat coming from the sun above did not help to lighten.

Christine looked behind her when she noticed Erik was not right by her side. She felt the mood shift as she looked at him and knew he was brooding on something even his mask could not hide. She stopped walking and waited for him to catch up to her.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "If it's what Marie said to you that bothered you," she continued.

Erik cut her off, "No, it's not that. Just please forget it Christine. I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand."

Christine fell in by his side, now trying to keep up his pace through the dry sand that pulled at her shoes. "What wouldn't I understand? Ten minute ago you were acting fine and happy, and now you are dwelling on something." When he did not answer her, she got angry and continued, "Is this the way it is to be with you; Angry in the mornings and deliriously happy at night?"

That shocked him. He stopped walking and looked at her, "Christine, I'm sorry. You know I am not always in the best of moods at times."

"That's an understatement," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now please tell me what changed your mood so quickly to this." She looked at him in a way that brooked no argument. He would not be able to give her the silent treatment now.

"Christine," he started, then cleared his throat, feeling more wretched by the minute, "part of what has me upset is what happened, what we did last night."

Christine's face fell. Erik knew instantly she had taken that the wrong way and she looked hurt by it.

"Christine, I don't regret sleeping by your side," he amended quickly. "It was more than I ever dreamed. But you should know that it will not happen again, I promise." There, he said it. That should discourage her from tempting him in the future. Let her think he did not want it and she might not push him so close to losing control.

"I don't understand," she said, staring at him dumbly.

"It was wrong of me to do so," Erik said quickly. "I should never have put you in a position that might compromise your reputation. You are a good sweet girl and I will not have people speaking of it otherwise." Erik was rambling now. "Besides, when we return to Paris, what will they say of you when they see me by your side, let alone if they knew we were intimate," he choked out the word, sick to think he might never get to use it again in reference to his beloved.

"You think I will be bothered by what people say about you?" Christine stammered.

"I will be bothered by it. I don't wish for you to be seen as a harlot; some cheap chorus whore."

Christine was struck dumb by the term. Is that what people thought of her? Did they really think she was a whore? She was still a virgin!

"Erik, I can dispel the rumors quite easily enough," she tried to explain.

"It isn't just that," Erik continued. He held his coat to his chest tightly. "I'm…" but she could not hear what he mumbled after.

"What?"

"I'm dangerous, Christine," Erik said. The velvet in his voice sounded oddly menacing when he spoke the word.

"I know what you had to do in your past, but you would never hurt me," she started to argue.

"I'm not speaking of that sort of dangerous, Christine," Erik lifted his head to face her. His eyes were oddly fearful and yet she was the one who trembled at his words. "I'm dangerous to you, and only to you in ways you are unaware of yet."

Christine thought for a moment, trying to guess what he was cryptically referring to. Then she understood what he meant and she felt her limbs go numb. Did he mean he would one day violate her? Did he imply he would rape her? It was a horrific term, one she had only heard through horrible stories of what happens to good girls who are not careful around violent men. Surely Erik was not capable of that.

"You would never hurt me," she repeated, trying to get that awful four letter word out of her mind. She shook her head in disbelief. Was he trying to tell her that he was capable of such a horrid act?

"No, Christine, I could never hurt you intentionally."

Intentionally? Did he mean he would hurt her accidentally? "But?"

Erik paused, unwilling to continue his explanation. He walked past her shaking his head. "Forget it. You wouldn't understand."

Christine followed, and placed a light hand on his shoulder. He froze to the spot, his body tense and unmoving. She was barely touching him, but she somehow held him there. "You keep saying I wouldn't understand. Do you think me unintelligent?"

"No," Erik started.

"Then tell me what it is you think I am so incapable of understanding so I might try to," Christine said softly, still managing to sound exasperated although she was a little frightened at his vagueness.

"I'm a monster."

Christine was shocked to hear the term come from his mouth. What did he mean by it?

"I'm a disgusting lecher for thinking that I could have a normal relationship to you," he blurted out quickly.

"Erik?" Christine tried to interrupt him but he brushed past her and quickly walked away down the beach leaving her standing dumbfounded. She stood there for a long time, watching him walk away, kicking up sand as he went. She felt the tears start to trickle down her face and the breeze dry them to her skin before they could fall from her cheek.

How could he think that, she wondered? How could he say he is a monster for wishing to be with her? His words played over and over again in her head. Dangerous. Monster. Never hurt you intentionally. What did he mean? With an awful cramp in her stomach she wondered if he would possibly hurt her one day. Did she truly know all of his past and what he had suffered? Did she know the truth of what he could be capable of?

She shook her head to herself as she watched him disappear around the rocks. If he was capable of such a horrendous act as violating a woman, he would not torment himself like this for fear of hurting her like that. There had to be another explanation for his self loathing that suddenly crept upon him.

She walked slowly, following his footprints in the sand. She knew from experience with him that she should give him time, but she was completely confused as to why he would suddenly act like he hated himself when just a few hours ago she would have said he was the happiest man she ever met. After a time she saw him, hunched over hugging his knees with his back to her. He sat on the lonely rock staring out into the vast sea watching the waves crash onto the beach. She spotted a white object lying next to him and knew it was his mask. As she neared him, she saw him raise a hand to wipe his face on his sleeve. He was weeping once more and it broke her heart to think she did not know how to help.

As she approached him, he cocked his ear in her direction but did not turn to face her. He reached for his mask and replaced it on his face, still staring out into the grey green water that foamed into curling waves in the distance. She climbed up the smaller stones and came to sit just behind him.

"Erik?" Christine started, unsure how to go about asking her next question. "From what I know of you, you are no monster. But…" she hesitated, placing her hand against his back. "When you say you are dangerous to me, what did you mean by that?"

Erik did not answer.

"Please, I have to know," she persisted. "I know what men are capable of doing to women, but I could not imagine you ever doing something so horrible to me."

Erik exhaled deeply but still did not answer or turn in her direction.

"Erik," Christine swallowed, "would you try to rape me?"

The word rang into Erik's head and surprised him that she would use it. He turned to look at her, completely aghast. "Rape you?" he asked.

Christine stared fearfully back at him, removing her hand from his shoulder and prepared to flee should he become angry with her for asking such a question.

"Christine, I could never do something so horrible. That is an abomination that the sickest of men commit. I may be a lot of things but one of them I am not!" he spat vehemently.

"Then why say you are a danger to me?" Christine cried, her lip quivering.

"Because I am so madly in love with you that I fear I would lose control with you!" he shouted. Erik stood and paced away from her, walking back and forth in front of where she sat. "I should never have to violate your ears with such words, but you must know you are driving me mad! I have never known the touch of a woman before you; your innocence which I so wish to protect and preserve is the only thing stopping me from allowing myself the desires of a man!"

Isn't that what rape is, she wondered? Christine watched him wide eyed, pacing forth and back before her, ranting his frustrations. She knew he desired her, but had she been putting him through such agony by her flirting?

"Christine," he said, and he rushed to her feet, "I am a man like any other man, but I have wished for nothing more than this for so long that I feel I am dangerously close to the edge. I can scarcely hope you would desire to be with me intimately but if you ever did, then were to change your mind… Should I ever push you past your limit, you would turn me away and that is something I can never afford to risk. You are far too important to me and I know deep inside my soul that I would never survive your rejection should you…" he couldn't continue. He was choking on his own words and stumbling in his explanation.

"Erik," Christine began. She didn't know what to say. She felt immediately guilty for having put him through this. Did he not know how she felt for him? Did he truly feel she would turn him away? Virgin she may be but she was hardly a nun. "Do you think I am toying with your emotions?" she accused him. "I would never dishonor you that way. I care for you far too much."

Christine stepped down off the rocks and went to him. "I can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but it seems it's the only way you will understand." She stole her courage and closed her eyes before saying, "You are not the only one with desires."

Erik's ears burned with her words. He could only hear the waves and a gull crying above them as it rode the wind.

"Christine?" he inquired.

She stepped towards him timidly, "I may be young but I know enough and I know what you do to me." With every step towards him she became more frightened and emboldened at the same time. "Are you even aware of what I feel every time you look at me; of how your voice nearly sends me to my knees when you say my name?"

Erik could not believe what he was hearing. Once again this siren had come to replace his little Christine with a brave temptress. He had no idea how to react to this stranger who stood before him.

Christine walked closer to Erik until she stood just half a step away. "You tell me you are a monster for wanting me," she cocked her head to the side, "but then what does that make me?"

Erik was lost for words, almost. He said, "It's wrong for me to want you but God help me I do." He grasped her hands pulling them up against his chest.

"Why is it wrong for you and alright for anyone else?" Christine asked softly. She looked up into his eyes and felt her stomach lurch with butterflies once more. "Do you think I'm so naïve to not realize how you feel? I know you are as unprepared as I for what we are doing."

Erik felt hot under his mask at her words. "What are we doing?" he repeated in question.

"This," Christine said, unable to elaborate more. She did not know how to put it into words. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in a gesture that needed no other interpretation. The kiss started out gentle but quickly grew to into an overwhelming need for more of his touch. She suddenly didn't want him to restrain himself. If it caused him so much agony, why would she wish to deny him? Having never been with a man, she didn't even know what it was that she wanted. She only knew that when he looked at her and touched her she felt completely helpless in his power.

Erik's hands softened their grip on hers and the tenseness in his rigid body changed to a different sort when her lips pressed to his. Her mouth moved on his smoothly, tasting his lips and the salt of dried tears on his skin. She felt the soft leather of his mask brush her face and upper lip and she frustratingly tore it away. Erik broke loose from her kiss for only a moment to gasp at the sudden coolness on his bare face but in seconds he stole her mouth again, holding her face to his, mask forgotten.

Christine's arms wrapped themselves around his neck holding him tight to her kiss as her tongue darted out to flick his own. A sharp pang of pleasure shot through her as she did and he responded. Their tongues danced together as they devoured each other in a kiss that was growing more desperate with need by the moment. Erik's arms crushed her to him, pressing the length of her against his taunt body. She could feel the tension of every tightened muscle and his hands roving up and down her back holding her to him. She felt entirely too hot all over. The sun beat down on them from up above and the flames he lit within her felt like they were burning her in an unimaginably enjoyable fire.

Erik felt the hunger return with a forceful vengeance. He wanted to taste every inch of her body; to touch every part of her until he knew every curve by memory. Was it possible, his fevered brain wondered, that she wanted him just as badly too? The sweat trickled down his back under his shirt and he felt oppressively restrained. He wanted to tear his clothing off and be free of it forever. He wanted to feel her touch to his emblazoned skin and to know once again the softness of hers under his fingertips.

Erik's lips left her mouth suddenly and were at her neck, hungrily tasting and sucking at her smooth skin. She gasped at the sensation and her knees buckled. Were it not for his arms holding her she would have fallen over. He caught her and they both lowered to the sand on their knees. Erik could not help himself. He leaned her back to lie on the warm white sand, cradling her head on his arm. She stared up at him in wonder, her dark eyes blinking the bright sunlight away.

He tugged at his collar, opening the top buttons to release some of the heat built up under his shirt. He looked down at his little Christine lying once again in his arms. Her breasts strained against the fabric of her dress and tightened against his as her deep breaths filled her lungs. Her face was flush with the heat and emotion of being kissed so. Erik paused to take in the beauty of her lying there. He brushed the hair back away from her face, pushing her locks behind one ear and slowly stroked his fingers down the side of her neck. It was still moist from his lips and he traced the place he had just kissed to the edge of her lacey collar.

Christine lay there, feeling his fingertips tickling her warm skin. She prayed he would not stop at her neckline and as an answer to her prayer, she felt him slip the first small button through its hole with a slight pop. She held her breath as she looked down and watched his long fingers slowly work their way down the front of her dress, undoing the buttons one by one. He only got to a few before he stopped and she felt his cool hand slip just beneath the fabric and push it aside to reveal the hollow at the base of her neck. Her breath hitched in her throat as he dipped his head down to claim a kiss at the place where her slender neck met her shoulder. He softly grazed his mouth across her collarbone and she felt him tenderly flick his tongue across it between kisses. She moaned softly as he did and could feel his hoarse breathing on her skin sending goose bumps up and down her back. A powerful throb emanated from between her legs causing her to gasp suddenly. She had felt that same sensation before when he kissed her, but the intensity of this caught her off guard. He stopped kissing her and pulled back to look at her quizzically.

His eyes were dark and hungry as he drank in the sight of her, knowing he was making her gasp like that. The power over her reactions to him was making him drunk and he was happy to become an addict. He once again claimed her mouth, even as he regretted doing so because it would drown out the lovely sounds she was making. He wanted to continue unbuttoning her dress more than ever, but as eager as he was, he wanted to take his time and savor every moment of it. He daringly stroked his hand down her front, feeling the buttons under his fingertips as if he were memorizing how many there were. His hand passed between her breasts, barely touching them and she whimpered into his mouth. The tightness he felt in his groin grew even more so as he heard her beautiful voice making those sounds against his lips. He stopped at her waist, then slid his hand around to grasp her hips, pulling them toward him slightly.

Just before his hand could explore her body further Erik heard the noise of scraping boots on the rocks.


	26. Threats and Defense

Erik heard a deep laugh come from up above their place in the sand. His head shot up and he saw three men sitting up on the rocks staring down at them. One of them recoiled when he saw Erik's face and the other two just laughed at their surprised expressions. Christine softly shrieked and she clung to Erik as they both tried to scramble up off the ground, flinging sand in every direction.

"My, my Andre," one of them said to the man who had winced at seeing Erik unmasked, "looks like we got us a free peep show and a freak act all in one." He laughed roughly and his friends chortled with him. He stood up from the rocks and started to make his way down the boulders where Erik was frantically trying to brush the sand from his mask and replace it onto his face. He pushed Christine behind him protectively and she cowered there, breathing hard from the unexpected shock of finding themselves with an audience. He started to step back toward the shore, keeping himself between them and Christine.

The lead man was tall and swarthy with a thick beard and what sounded like a heavy German accent. He was holding a large brown bottle in one hand and his sleeves were pushed back to reveal massively thick forearms. He had sweat dripping down the sides of his darkly tanned face that pooled under his chin and wet the front of his shirt.

"Hey sweetheart, how much is he payin' you?" the second man called down to Christine.

The leader continued the insult, "Dorian, I don't think you can afford her. He must have had to save his entire life to afford a whore of that quality who'd be willing to take him up." He laughed again at his own wit.

Erik cursed himself for being caught so exposed and unaware. Never before had his guard been so completely down. Christine was the only thing in the world distracting enough to make him forget to look over his shoulder at all times, and now he feared for her safety above all else. He had a small concealed blade that he always kept on his person, but that would do little against three large men should they attack. He could likely defend Christine so she might get away, but he would not be able to escape himself unscathed. This was what he had been afraid of and what he warned Christine about. He whispered a fast fervent prayer that these men would leave them alone and not harm Christine. He prayed he would not have to kill them in front of her, but if that's what it came to then so be it. He continued to back away, shooing Christine back the way they came down the beach towards the steps.

Dorian replied to the remark, "I don't think he's gotten his money's worth yet, Kurt. Check out the tent! There must be a whole circus in there trying to get out!" his crude remark sent Erik's face ablaze in shame and misery and the reason behind the taunt vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"I'm not a whore!" Christine cried out indignantly as she tried to step out to confront the men. Erik turned to her and gave her a sharp stern look with his eyes that translated to say she should not draw attention to herself. She withdrew, seeing the grave expression he gave.

The men simply laughed out loud at her outburst and jumped down off the last rocks to stand before them. "Aww, c'mon sweetie. Everyone knows every woman's a whore, some are just more expensive!" The German called out to her.

Christine trembled on his arm. She was terrified of what they might do. Erik kept pushing her back away from where they had lain as the three men advanced on them, attempting to surround and cut them off from their retreat. The rocks they clambered down blocked off most of their path of escape. He could not back away and seem threatening to them so he stopped moving and stood his ground.

"Gentlemen, I would advise you to leave immediately. We have no wish for company," he said. His voice was low with the threat but it carried over the sound of the ocean to the men's ears. They were instantly outraged that a man like him would dare speak to them.

"Listen to that," the one called Kurt said to his companions. "He thinks he owns this stretch of beach," he said angrily. Then in a surprisingly calm voice he said, "We aren't looking for trouble. We just want a little fun."

Erik's hackles were up and he reached behind his back to untie the lace that held his knife in place along his spine. Christine saw him do it and her eyes went wide with fear as she realized what he might be forced to do. She had never seen him fight another human being before, but from what she gathered of his horrific stories of his past, she knew unless these men left them alone, there would be bloodshed.

"Yeah, we just want to have some fun, like you were. Unless you want to put on another show for us, freak," Dorian purred as he flanked them on the left. "Maybe we can put on our own show and see just how ugly we can get that face to look," he said as he cracked the knuckles in his fist. A few more strides and their path of retreat would be gone.

"I'm afraid not gentlemen, the show is over," Erik growled at them while he took a menacing step forward.

Erik knew deep in his gut what would happen to Christine if he failed to get her out of there. He said to her in a voice so low they would never hear it, "Christine, I want you to run for the inn. Right now, do you understand?"

She nodded, but stood frozen to the spot. When she didn't move he roared at her, "Go now!"

She bolted for the opening between the rocks as Erik gripped his knife in his fist and advanced on the men.

Three things happened all at once. A gout of blood splashed across the white sand of the beach as Erik's panther-like reflexes lashed the blade out and connected it with the arm of his first assailant slicing deep to the bone; Dorian roared in pain and outrage clutching his mangled limb in his hand. Kurt's fist connected with Erik's face and sent his mask flying onto the rocks before Erik could get another swipe in. And Christine never made it through the rocks before Andre tackled her down to the ground. The weight of his body slammed into her back, half knocking the wind from her lungs and crushing her into the sharp edges of a boulder that lay just under a thin covering of sand.

Terrified for Christine's safety, Erik fought off the two others. Dorian soon forgot his bloodied arm and he tried to help Kurt to unarm him. Erik's lightening fast reflexes were too much for them. He couldn't see out of his left eye due to the blood trickling off his brow from the punch to the face he received but he knew from years of experience in fights how to bring his opponents down. He slashed in tight swift circles at the two men, feeling the resistance of the blade as is cut through clothing and into flesh. Kurt howled as the knife's edge sliced across his belly, splitting the skin and cutting into the fat beneath it. He crumpled to the ground holding his wound. At seeing the blood spout out from the waistline of his companion, Dorian gave up the fight and started to scramble away, crabbing backwards on the ground while holding his still bleeding arm.

Christine meanwhile tried to scramble away as her breath returned to her, but the weight of his sweaty body pinned her legs painfully to the ground. The rough stones that jutted up from the sandy shore scraped into her hands as she tried to find solid purchase of anything to pull herself up by. He tried to hold onto her while attempting to tear her clothing away and undo the buckle to his belt but could only find grip on the cloth of her skirts. She rolled under her clothes to her side, kicking furiously at her attacker, managing to plant one solid boot into his groin. He let out a stream of incomprehensible profanity as he crumpled into a ball. She got to her feet sent one hard boot tip flying into his face, feeling the sickening crunch of a broken nose underneath her toe. Blood burst all over his face and her shoe in an awful wet pop.

He roared at her through a blood bubble in his mouth, "You fucking bitch!" as he ducked his head to his chest, unable to decide whether to still hold his bruised crotch or the broken appendage between his eyes.

She saw Erik coming towards her, without his mask and with one eye swollen shut, but otherwise seemed unharmed. She started to run once more, feeling the blood drip down her arms from the cuts on her arms where the rocks had skinned them. Her head reeled and she saw spots before her eyes from the lack of oxygen. His strong hand grasped hers as he caught up with her and they both ran for the cliff steps.

They were surprised to find there were other people on the beach at the other end, unaware of Christine and Erik or the three men who attacked them. A teenage boy and his girlfriend stared wide-eyed at them as they ran past and asked if they were alright. Erik was beyond caring who saw him unmasked at the moment as they passed. His only concern was for Christine's safety and his blood boiled and chilled him as he thought of what just nearly happened to her. He curled his arm around her waist protectively and led her up the steps, taking care not to slip in their haste. He still held the knife in one white knuckled hand.

Christine's breath came in short gasps and the heat from the air dried her mouth. She tasted blood and realized her lip had split when she connected with the rock she had fallen on. She spat out bloody spittle onto the gravel pathway and wiped her mouth with the back of her scraped and bruised wrist. Her hand shook from fear and adrenaline and her heart still beat so rapidly in her chest she felt it would never slow again. She was only vaguely aware of Erik's firm grasp on her body as he led her to the inn. She had been so terrified of what the man was going to do to her, but her frantic thoughts were mostly for Erik. She had been unable to see him where he fought the other two men and as she lay struggling for freedom, all she could think of was going to Erik to help. Useless as she knew she was, she could only think of getting to him before it was too late. She nearly cried out with relief when she saw him running towards her through the dark and sandy rocks, safe. A million horrific possibilities had flashed through her mind but she was surprised to find that the possibility of being raped or murdered herself was the least of her fears. As she imagined finding Erik's ruined body lying motionless in sand where they had just shared the beginnings of intimacy, her stomach went into knots and convulsions and she stopped to lean away from him and wretch into the tall grass beside the path.

Erik held her at the waist and watched her vomit convulsively into the dirt. She spat bile from her mouth and wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then collapsed to the ground in a sudden exhaustion as the adrenaline ran out and failed to keep her body going. He shook with anger and fear for her and did not know quite what to do. As much as he longed to go back down to the beach and finish the men off in the most horrible fashion he could imagine possible, he knew he needed to take care of Christine more. He looked up when he heard footsteps running toward them. Marie's stableman was approaching along with another young man Erik did not recognize. Erik knelt by Christine's side protectively and ignored the expression of shock as the stableman saw his unmasked face.

"We heard a lady scream," the young man explained. "I was on the far end of the beach with my friends and they told me to go for help."

Erik nodded at the explanation of how someone got to them so quickly. He fussed over Christine, not allowing her to attempt to stand. The stableman offered his handkerchief to Erik to wipe the blood from Christine's arms and face, which he gladly accepted.

"What happened sir?" he asked as he caught his breath.

"Three men attacked us down on the beach beyond the rocks," Erik explained hurriedly. "Send for the gendarmes and a doctor!" he shouted at them, "They may still be down there!"

"Erik, I'm fine," Christine protested feebly but Erik ignored her.

The young man ran quickly away to get help from town and the stableman returned to fetch Marie from the inn.

"Christine, are you alright?" Erik's voice shook. He touched her face tenderly, feeling sick at seeing the split skin of her beautiful lip. He looked over her other wounds as he gently pushed the sleeves back up her arms. Most of the cuts were superficial but one across her palm looked particularly nasty and sand was driven between the puckered flesh causing it to look worse than it probably was.

"Erik, I said I'm fine," Christine replied timidly. She knew she was not, but she couldn't stand to see Erik so alarmed. She looked him over and aside from the swelling cut across his eyebrow he didn't have a mark on his person. 'Erik, your mask…" she started to point out.

"I don't care about that right now," Erik cut her off. "Do you think you can walk?"

Christine started to stand up and winced at the pain coming from her knees where she had fallen. She never made it to her feet before Erik scooped her up and started carrying toward the inn. Christine gratefully wrapped her arms around his neck, thankful he was alright. She wanted to get inside the inn where she knew it was safe.

Marie met them only a short distance from the front gate. She appeared shocked and horrified to learn they had been attacked. To her credit, she only took one brief glance at Erik's bare face before she addressed them.

"Oh, Christine; Monsieur! Quickly, come inside!"

Her stableman attempted to take Christine from Erik's arms but quickly realized he was not going to let her go and fell back to follow them inside. Erik gently placed Christine onto the couch by the fireplace, touching her face gently and never taking his eyes off her. Marie ordered her maid to fetch warm water and bandages for them both.

"Would you please bring some brandy as well," Erik requested in a calm voice that belied his murderous anger. He needed a good stiff drink to calm down and prevent him from leaving her side. For once, he decided it would be best to allow the gendarmes to handle the situation. He needed to care for Christine now. So they might take him seriously, he needed to fetch his other mask from his room.

"Christine, I'll be right back," he said as Marie and the maid returned with water and cloth.

She nodded, not wishing for him to leave, but grateful to be in the protection of a familiar place. Erik hurried upstairs to his room where his belongings had been redistributed. He knew he would get blood on the mask, but there was little to be done about that and he did not wish to take time away from Christine to bother bandaging his cut first. He wet his hand in the basin and wiped most of the blood from his face then dried it quickly. A small trickle of blood still oozed from the cut, which was smaller than he originally thought. He tied the mask onto his face and hurried back downstairs to find an officer standing in the room questioning Christine.


	27. Pain and Numbness

The gendarmes questioned Christine and Erik for nearly an hour before the doctor arrived and insisted they leave them alone to be examined. Erik was outraged at the policeman's first assumption; that Erik was lying about the attackers and that he himself was the one who caused Christine's injuries. If it were not for Christine standing there to commiserate his story, he might have been the one in cuffs. She gave descriptions of the three men and their names as she heard them called. She also did not hesitate to inform them of the injuries she inflicted on the one who attacked her. Erik was surprised at her vehemence. He added his own description of his defense and the injuries he caused to the other two. The officer jotted down their confessions on a small notepad. He did not seem surprised to hear of it all. He asked Erik to see the blade he used and after looking it over and eyeing Erik skeptically for carrying a double edged knife, handed it back to him handle first.

Marie looked sick as she explained to Christine, "I had them removed last night after they got drunk and were threatening to ruin this place. I'm so sorry, Christine. I thought they left town last night."

"Those were the same men we had to deal with last night?" he asked, to which Marie nodded. He sighed, "It doesn't surprise me."

A second officer returned a time later after the doctor had seen to and properly bandaged Christine's lacerations on her arms and hands. He reported seeing bloody spattering around the area of the assault but no sign of the men were there. He also brought back Erik's mask, which at first finding it had puzzled him, but seeing Erik now with the other one on, he did not question its origin or purpose.

Erik seethed, his head pounding in frustration. He secretly hoped he had killed Kurt with the slice at his torso, but in afterthought it was probably better for them that he hadn't considering that he was there with Christine.

After they finished their report and questioned the other witnesses they said, "Will you be staying here much longer in case we have any leads?"

Erik looked at Christine in askance and she gave a small nod. "Yes, we are going to be staying a few more days then we will be heading back to Paris," he replied.

"With your permission, I would like to get your information there in case we need to contact you once more," the officer said.

Erik gave them Christine's address, knowing he could not very well use his own. They thanked him and tipped their hats as they left through the front door. The room was oddly quiet after the doctor and gendarmes cleared out. Only Erik, Christine, Marie, and her maid still stood there.

"Marie," Christine asked, "Would it be too much trouble for you to draw up a hot bath?"

Marie flustered, "Of course not my dear!" and with that, left promptly with her maid to heat the water for the tub.

Christine rubbed her arms up and down, standing in the middle of the room. She looked so small and helpless to Erik. His outer shell showed him to be calm, but he did not feel it inside. He took her gently into his arms, enveloping her completely in his embrace.

"I feel so dirty," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. "I can't get the feeling of his grimy hands off my skin."

For once in his life, Erik did not know what to do; should he even hold her right now? He longed to comfort her and to take back what had happened. He wanted to rush out the door and hunt those men down to make them pay for making Christine feel this way. He wanted them to suffer for it. But he knew he wouldn't. Christine would not want him to kill on her behalf.

He stood there holding her gently, stroking her mussed hair tenderly. He expected her to start crying uncontrollably at any moment, but she did not. She just stood there in his arms, staring off into oblivion. Erik worried for her; she must be in shock from the scare. He released her moved her slowly down onto the divan. She did not look directly at him and that scared him.

"Christine," he whispered, "Are you alright? Are you in pain?"

Christine was silent then said, "No. I'm not in any pain," then she added, "Neither am I alright."

Erik swallowed a lump in his throat. This was what he had been afraid of. His innocent Christine was gone now and he wondered if he would ever get her back. The girl that sat before him seemed hollow and broken. Her eyes were not dull, but the fire behind them had changed. He had never seen that look upon her face before. She looked stunned, angry, and deep in thought.

"Christine, please tell me what I can do?" Erik finally asked, at a loss for an answer on his own.

She did not answer. She sat and stared past him, deep in her mind now. Erik felt ill. This was his entire fault.

"I should have never have asked you to be with me," he said quietly. The torment in his voice made her look up at him finally. "I warned you the other day that this might one day happen. I told you how people treat me and by association how they will treat you." Erik rose and paced the room clenching his fists tightly. "I am not worthy of you, let alone worth the risk to your safety."

Christine tracked him with her eyes but was otherwise still.

"I can't always be there to protect you and I shouldn't have to be! If you were with the Vicomte, nothing like this would ever happen!" Erik was shouting now. Christine sat watching him, not reacting, except to squint her eyes.

"Stop it."

Christine spoke so low he barely heard her but the small phrase froze Erik where he stood. He did not expect to hear such venom in her small voice. It was not a plea, it was a command and he was powerless to do anything but obey.

Christine stood slowly, her eyes never leaving him. When she spoke again, her voice chilled Erik's bones.

"Those men would have attacked us regardless of whether it was you or any other man. Had I been alone, I would lie raped and dying on that beach." Erik flinched at the thought. "Had Raoul been with me, he would have fought and lost and joined me in that fate."

Erik swallowed, the tone in her voice said he should not argue right now. She turned from him and he waited for her to continue but she said nothing for a long while. He approached her without a sound and wrapped his arms around her waist once more from behind then whispered into her ear, "I never want to have to imagine something so awful again. I cannot bear to lose you." He squeezed a tear painfully from his swollen eye feeling it burn there.

Christine did not respond for a moment. The quiet in the room was deafening to Erik, and he feared deep down she might actually take his advice and leave him. She stood coldly in his embrace but he was reluctant to let go. Christine seemed to finally notice he was there, holding her and she placed her hands on his arms at her waist.

"I could never bear to lose you either," she said softly. Her voice held some emotion Erik could not place. "I'm going to take a bath now," she said. "Will you see to it that this dress is burned? I apologize since it is new, but I never wish to see it again."

Erik murmured he would and she walked away from him down the hall to the bath house. She did not look back at him as she left. He felt numbness creeping over him and a dread of things to come. As much as he knew it was too dangerous for them to be together, he could not stand to see her leave. He would die of it.

Erik took the opportunity of her absence to change his own clothing and wash in his room. The cut on his brow did not need stitches, thank goodness. It would heal, but it made his mask fit uncomfortably from the swelling. At least he got his softer mask back from the officer. The material was more flexible and forgiving. He exited his room to see the maid carrying a heap of clothing out to be laundered and offered to take it for her. He walked to the burn pile in back and threw the dress on it as well as his own clothing, having gotten blood on his shirt and trousers; some his, some not. He stood awhile watching the flames lick around the cloth until it was quickly reduced to fuming ash.

Several hours passed before she emerged, clean and freshly dressed and bandaged. Her skin was raw and red and Erik wondered how hard she had scrubbed herself to be rid of the feeling of that man's hands on her. He knew there was no amount of soap and water to cleanse such a violation from the mind. Did she even remember the tenderness they shared just before it happened?

Her lower lip was swollen and bruised and her eyes were red and puffy. He knew she probably broke down and cried in her bath. She looked much better than before and he saw some of the life back in her eyes along with something else, something serious.

"Walk with me please," she said and then passed him to exit the front door to the garden.

Erik followed dumbly to the garden and sat on the bench next to her underneath the trellis. He waited for her to speak awhile before her voice broke the silence.

"I know you still think I would be better off without you," she started.

Erik's heart slowed and his stomach knotted.

"But the truth is, I need you," she continued. Erik held his breath, not expecting to hear her say that. "I can't imagine my life without you anymore. When you told me to run away, I didn't want leave. I was more afraid for you than for myself."

Erik almost laughed. "You think I cannot defend myself?"

Christine glanced at him and actually smiled a little, "No, I did not think that. But three against one is more than anybody should have to handle." She played with the edge of the bandage across her palm, itching at the material. "Do you know what I was most afraid of?"

Erik shook his head, "No. What was it?"

"I was afraid I would never see you again. Alive that is," she paused. "I thought I would not get away and would have to lie there and listen to you get murdered only yards from where I was and there was nothing I could do about it. It made me sick to think I would have to let those men do things to me while knowing there was nothing I could do to help you."

"Christine, that would not have happened," Erik argued trying to console her.

"Enough Erik!" Christine suddenly shouted. "You don't know what could have happened any more than I do! The point is, I have never felt more helpless in my entire life. Not even when I lost my father did I feel so debilitated."

Erik stared at her in shock. "I don't know what to do," he replied, at a loss for words.

Christine stood and left him at the bench. She pulled a few dead leaves from a branch and crumbled them between her fingertips. "I know of one thing you can do."

"What, Christine. Tell me and I will do anything to make you feel better," Erik said desperately.

"Are you certain?" Christine said as she looked at him from her tired eyes.

"Yes," was his simple reply and he meant it.


	28. Student and Teacher

"Are you certain you wish to do this?" Erik asked.

Christine stood before him in the dim lantern light. "I'm certain," she replied, although she was not absolutely sure she was ready. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. "I've never done anything like this before," she admitted, feeling stupid for stating the obvious.

Erik smiled at her, "Think of it as a dance." He stepped towards her, graceful as a cat. "Two partners, moving together as one," he purred. Never in a thousand years did he imagine he would be saying these words to her. "I don't wish to hurt you. Do you promise to tell me if I do?"

Christine timidly shook her head yes. "I promise."

"Come closer to me," Erik said in a low voice.

Christine walked toward him, unsure of what might come next. "What do I do first?"

Erik said, "Just stand there. I will show you." He walked through the straw on the barn floor until he was behind her then placed his strong hand on her shoulder. "Now, should an attacker come from behind, there are many different approaches you can take to defend yourself."

Christine nodded her head, "Show me."

"If someone grabs you at the shoulder, I want you to reach across with your opposite hand and grip my wrist."

"Like this?" Christine asked, gripping his hand over her collarbone.

"Yes. Now hold it tightly and don't let go. Turn quickly in that same direction and with your other arm, drive your elbow into their stomach as you turn."

Christine followed his instruction slowly, not actually striking Erik in the torso, but touching her elbow to his waist. "Here?"

"A little higher," he corrected, placing her elbow where it needed to go. "You want to bruise the muscles and drive the breath from their lungs. Don't let go of my hand either. After you deliver the blow to the stomach, use both hands on the wrist. As you turn keep a firm grip and twist the hand back and up. If you can, grip a single finger and wrench is back up, then down across their forearm. It will dislocate or break."

Christine made a grimace.

"Not pleasant but it's effective," Erik agreed. "Should your attacker grab you with both arms like this," he demonstrated wrapping both his arms tightly around her chest, "what do you have free to use as your defense?"

Christine thought about it. "My head. My hands but not my arms, and my legs and feet."

"Very good," he breathed into her ear. "You can butt your head back into their face, breaking their nose which will cause them to lose their ability to see. If you cannot bring your head directly back, use your feet to kick backwards at the instep or the kneecap. If you are not able to do either of those, you still have your hands, if not your arms."

He released her again and she turned toward him. "What are the most painfully vulnerable places on the body to pinch?"

Christine thought and said, "The tender thin skinned areas like the forearms and neck?"

"Almost correct. If you are able to grab and tear flesh with your fingertips the places are here: The neck where it meets the shoulder, the breasts, the underarms, the groin, and the inner thigh. All locations are easy to grip and incredibly painful."

"What if I am attacked from the front?"

"That is not likely since they will not want to let you know they are coming after you. First you are to try and run, but if running away is not possible, I want you to remember the pinching areas."

"Why not try to punch them?" Christine asked.

Amused Erik said, "Punch me as hard as you can."

Christine was horrified, "What?"

"You heard me. I promise you I won't be hurt by it. Now punch me."

Christine skeptically looked at him, then balled up her fist incredulously and swung back her arm then let it fly in a wide arc toward Erik. It connected with his chest, almost at his shoulder. She winced and shook her hand out afterward. He simply glanced down where her fist connected.

"If you are going to punch, never tuck your thumb inside your fist. That is a sure way to get it broken. Secondly, if you do throw a punch, a direct jab is more effective than a round house and you should aim for their eyes. At least then even if it's not strong you may temporarily blind them." Erik smiled at her, "I am not sexist when I say this, but a punch from a woman is far less effective and unless it is delivered with precision and tremendous force, you are more likely to anger your assailant than you are to disarm him."

Christine was embarrassed at her lack of strength then thought for a moment and agreed with him.

"Is your hand alright?" Erik asked.

"I'm fine. Let's continue."

"Good. If your hands are free, remember the areas to pinch but there are other things you can do that are far more damaging and gruesome."

Christine groaned, not really wanting to hear about them.

"Give me your hand," he instructed.

She put her hand into his and he placed it on his face.

"With your thumb, hook it just under the jawbone, and with your middle finger, you will gouge into the eye socket."

Christine wrenched her hand back, "That's horrible!"

Erik sighed, "Christine, you wanted me to teach you."

She hung her head, resigned. "I know. Its just horrible and I hope I never have to use these techniques."

"That makes two of us," Erik replied. "That last move will give you control of their head. Anytime you can, control their head. Another simpler move is to place a finger or knuckle underneath the nostrils against the cartilage and push up and back. It's painful and their head will automatically tilt away from it giving you the opportunity to get away."

He had her demonstrate to him that she understood just how and where to grip the face.

"You can also hook your finger and tear through the cheek flesh just like a fish. Your tiny fingers will go right through the skin and between the tendons and muscle."

Erik released her hand back to her. She pulled at the bandage covering her palm. Erik saw her wince as the wound pulled open a little. He impulsively took her hand again and placed a kiss into her palm. "I'm so sorry Christine," he said delicately.

"It's alright," she said, not wishing to let on how much it throbbed painfully.

Erik eyed her skeptically then continued, "Do you want to learn more?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now for the next stage, I need to prepare you for the possibility that your initial defense will not work." He looked at her apologetically. "You won't like this."

"Just tell me what to do Erik. It's necessary."

Erik nodded and said, "Lie down."

He was right. She didn't like where this was going.

"I won't be rough with you I promise," he said softly.

She reluctantly knelt to the floorboards and lay in the hay, waiting for the instruction to continue. Erik saw her lying there and hated himself for putting her through this on the same day she was attacked in reality, even if it was a farce. He got down on his knees beside her, unsure of how he could continue without scaring her.

His voice stuck in his throat when he continued the instruction, "Should your attacker manage to trip you and get you down in this position," he cleared his throat, "there are a few ways to free yourself from their grasp."

"I managed to get away today, but I still don't know if it was luck," she said in a trembling voice.

"You won't always be so lucky. I suspect he was drunk and a bit uncoordinated when he…" he didn't finish the sentence. "To show you what to do, I need to… that is…"

"Erik, just do what you must," she said, "I'm not afraid of you hurting me." She sounded braver than she felt and she steeled herself against the panic she felt rising from putting herself in such a position willingly.

"Alright," he said. "I need to kneel between your legs for this."

Christine hesitated then complied, parting her legs for him to sit there, feeling flush at the thought of him lying on top of her once more. Her memories of earlier that morning with him on the beach had been nearly obliterated by the drama of the afternoon. Why did he have to be there again but this time teaching her how to avoid such a contact?

Erik crept over her right leg to kneel between them, taking care not to pull her skirt. He cleared his throat, "Now, when someone gets you down like this, you will feel vulnerable and trapped. They will only be able to effectively have control of half your body. Either they will pin your arms, or your legs to hold you still. If you can manage to get one leg free, you will be able to knock them off you."

"How can I do that? I can barely move," Christine said.

"This is going to be very unseemly of you to do, but I want you to kick your right leg up high and cross it over in front of my body."

Christine tried but couldn't due to Erik's knee pinning her skirt to the ground. "I can't Erik. My skirt is in the way."

"Oh," he forgot to mention, "Chances are, if they have you down like this, your skirts won't be in the way anymore." He felt outraged at the thought and clenched his jaw tightly to control his emotions. He moved so she could free her skirt and lift it higher up her thigh. He fought himself to not look the flash of creamy white skin just above her stockings. He had to stay focused if he was going to help her.

"Alright, now raise your leg and shift it in front of me so your calf is resting on my right shoulder at the neck." He helped her move her leg into place so the back of her knee was against the crook of his neck. "Now just straighten your leg and press down."

Christine did as he told her and was surprised to see Erik go flying to the side under her limb. She sat up quickly, "Are you alright?"

Erik laughed and sat up, brushing hay off his shirt. "I'm fine, Christine. That was excellent."

"It was so easy, it took almost no effort at all," she said in amazement.

"That's the point. You don't need to be very strong to fend off an attack," he beamed at her.

"What else is there? What if I can't use my legs?"

Erik tried his best not to look anywhere but her face. Her hair was spread around her face and her skirts were bunched up at her waist. She looked so inviting he nearly forgot what they were trying to do there.

"Lie down again and I will show you."

She did as she was told, again lying back on the ground to stare up at the cobwebbed rafters. Erik took his place between her legs once again. He took a deep breath and continued, "To show you this, I need to get a little closer."

Christine said, "Alright. What do I need to do?"

"Give me your wrists," Erik said. He took them in his hands and said, "To immobilize you against defense, they will try to keep your hands away from any position in which you could defend yourself or use them to break free." He leaned over her, pressing down on top of her and pinning her wrists above her head on the ground. He tried not to think the lustful thoughts that dared to creep into his mind at that moment, but with the length of his body along hers, it was difficult not to.

Christine's heart raced as she felt Erik lower his body on top of hers. He kept his chest and head raised up, but his hips pressed down firmly on top of hers. She feared she would panic at the contact given that only hours before she had been very close this very same position. Surprisingly she could only think of Erik at the moment and the way he had kissed her on the beach.

Erik kept going with the instruction, "To free yourself from such a grasp requires little strength but great speed for it to work. I want you to quickly move your arms in an arc along the ground to stretch out to the sides."

Christine did as she was told, swinging her arms down and found that while he held onto her wrists, his torso and head lowered closer to hers the farther his arms outstretched to match hers. His face hovered just above hers now.

"My balance is too far forward now and I will have to let go of your wrists to upright myself. Now you head-butt my face with your forehead as hard as you can," Erik breathed.

Christine started to lift her head, but Erik cried out, "No, not really!" Christine was startled at his shout. She laughed, then so did he.

"I thought you were going to actually do it," he confessed. He let go of her wrists and propped himself up on either side of her chest, but did not move to lift himself off her. The proximity to her was difficult to ignore as was the way she looked in the soft flickering light of the hanging lamp above them. A horse whickered in its sleep and pawed at the boards restlessly but there were no other sounds besides their breathing.

Christine stared up at him, knowing she should ask him to move, but could not find her voice to do so. She lay there wanting only to forget all the horrible events of that day and remember only the moments spent with Erik in his embrace. Perhaps, she thought, she was being emotionally needy considering the threat to both their lives.

Erik knew he would go to hell if he took advantage of her position at the moment. His little Christine had had enough intrusion on her person for one day. However, he could not help himself. Not wanting to cause her more pain, he lowered his mouth to hers and gingerly kissed her wounded lip. His kiss was meant to heal the hurt she had endured but he found it was also a balm to his injured pride at failing to protect her.

Christine sighed under his affectionate touch. His kiss was soft and lingering. When he lifted his lips away she felt most of the tension in her mind ease away with them.

"I'm sorry Christine. I should not have kissed you," Erik whispered apologetically.

Christine shook her head, "No, Erik. You should never be sorry for kissing me."

Erik saw the honesty in her eyes as she said this and he bent his head low once more to place a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes and exhaled as he did so.

"Do you want to continue?" Erik asked.

Christine thought for a moment and said, "I think we should stop for this evening. You can teach me more tomorrow."

"Alright," Erik said then pushed himself up and helped her to her feet. They both brushed straw from their clothing and Erik pulled a few pieces from her hair. "I can only imagine what Marie's help will say if they see us leaving the stables covered in this stuff," he joked.

She actually laughed at his remark. Then her face grew serious once more. "Erik, I have one more question."

"Hmm?" Erik answered.

"What am I to do if it is as it was today? More than one of them..."

Erik's eyes hardened as he thought of the situation again, "Then you run. Do not even attempt to defend yourself." He went silent again as he contemplated something, then he reached into his coat that was hanging on a small hook hear a stall and pulled a long object out. "I would prefer that you never have to even run from anyone."

He stood before her and said, "If you appear to be an easy target, then that is what you will become. But if you present yourself as a threat, they might think twice about bothering you." He handed her a black leather sheath with thin straps hanging down.

She took it from him and with a hand that shook, unsheathed a long thin single sided blade by its narrow handle. It shimmered and reflected the lantern glow casting a sharp stream of light across Erik's chest. She held it up and inspected it. The blade was only about six inches long and straight, but she knew it could be deadly.

"I have never seen a knife like this before," she admitted to him.

Erik took it back from her and replaced it into the sheath, then motioned for her to hold out her left arm. He rolled her sleeve back carefully.

"When your wounds are healed and your bandages can be removed, it is to be strapped to your forearm like this," and he held it against the back of her arm just between her elbow and wrist along the bone. "It's flat and made to be worn underneath clothing." He loosely strapped it to her arm to demonstrate, being careful not to apply too much pressure to her wounds. He pulled her sleeve down over it. "You will need to practice reaching under your cuff to unclip the safety latch with your finger in order to be quick about it. Feel here at the handle," he directed her to reach into her sleeve for the small snap that held the knife in its sheath. "Do you feel that little notch at the end?"

She nodded her head, feeling her fingernail slide into a groove on the handle.

"Grip that with your finger and slide it out quickly. Be careful not to cut your wrist or palm or to drop it."

She did as she was instructed, going slowly at first. The knife felt foreign in her hand and she held it awkwardly.

"No, Christine. Hold it like this," he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, and then demonstrated, switching the blade's position in her right hand so the blunt steel edge ran along the back of her arm, rather than forward. "This is not a kitchen knife. You need to hold it like this for two reasons. It will be more effective at downward stabbing and upward slashing and it will also be harder for them to turn it on you or knock it from your hand."

Christine thought it felt strange to hold a weapon like this. It felt good, like she was strong and could protect herself.

Erik said over her shoulder, "I will teach you to use this. God forbid you ever need to."

Christine turned to Erik and looked at him; her protector and her love, her teacher.

"Thank you, Erik," she said.


	29. Reflex and Instinct

Christine stood in front of her bedroom mirror after Erik bid her goodnight and retired to his adjoined room. She thought she looked awful with her bruised and scabbed lip and the bandages on her arms. She was grateful that the doctor told her she could remove them in just a few days. The single stitch in her palm pulled painfully when she flexed her hand experimentally. It hurt and felt strange and even itched a little. She was going to be very glad to have that gone.

Tonight for the first time in her life, she felt like more than the shrinking timid little ballerina. Erik had taught her what no other man would have. Once again she was grateful for the level of trust and understanding between them in their unconventional relationship. Any other man would have patronized her for wanting to defend herself and insist upon ridiculous chivalry in protecting her themselves. Erik saw the necessity of it and his idea was only enhanced by the added threat of attention drawn by his mask and deformities. When Erik had shown her all he could teach about self defense and using a knife to fight, she would be a victim never again.

She smiled to herself wickedly, liking the idea of herself as threatening more and more. She would never be a statistic in the countless reports and rumors of young women being victimized. The dim candlelight flickered over her face, casting shadows of herself about the room. She saw herself differently now. She stood tall, but not proudly or arrogantly, simply self assured. She bent her knees to a slight crouch and loosened her shoulders. As quick as she was able, she reached past her sleeve and ran her nail over the catch of the sheath and in one swift movement, drew the knife out into her hand, flicking it around to be held how Erik showed her.

"Not bad," she commented to herself. She knew she would have to practice if she was going to take anybody by surprise, but she knew that her skill would only get better with time.

She changed into her nightgown; her bandages glowed in the candlelight in the otherwise dark room. After a thought, she placed the knife on the bedside table. Exhausted she fell asleep feeling so much safer than she had before.

The next morning, Erik knocked early and startled her awake. She had been dreaming again. Her first dream that night had caused her to wake in a fit of shaking and she gripped the knife tightly to herself before she could fall back asleep. Upon hearing the tap on her door, she sat up fast in her bed, alarmed to find herself safe in her own bed. As confident as she was becoming since their lesson the previous evening, she knew she was probably going to have nightmares for some time to come. After her father's death she had them nightly for a year. She groaned and prayed she would not relive such a long period of sleepless nights again.

"Christine?" Erik called softly through the door. "Are you alright this morning?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied through a yawn. "I'll be downstairs momentarily."

"I just wanted to tell you to wear something lightweight today. It's not warm outside but I don't want you to be too hot," came his reply.

Oh yes, Christine recalled. Erik said he was going to teach her to use the knife properly. She looked around her bed for where it had gone. After tossing the sheets around, she stood back and laughed at herself as she found it lying underneath her pillow. She had always thought the old ladies who slept with a knife under their pillows were crazy, but now she understood why.

"I suppose you can stay there if it's where you want to be," she said to the object in her hand.

Marie seemed to think that feeding them an exorbitant amount of food would somehow make up for the horrible circumstances of the previous day. Erik was tempted to hide half of what she served in his napkin to avoid overeating. He politely asked her to wrap up a picnic basket for them since they would not be returning until later that afternoon.

They went around to the stables and Christine saw that two horses had already been groomed and saddled and were waiting for them.

"Are we going far today?"

Erik helped her mount the gelding, patting its neck and handing her the reins, then stepped into the stirrups of his the mare he had ridden to her rescue.

"We need somewhere to practice without prying eyes. I do not wish for any interruptions since I will be teaching you some difficult moves."

Christine nodded her head and Erik spurred the horse into a trot. She led her horse behind his, letting the reins fall slack as her mount saw fit to follow Erik's mare. They passed through town and headed south.

"This road looks all too familiar," Christine said slyly as she pulled up next to Erik after they passed the last little house at the edge of town.

"I don't know this countryside very well, but I do know of one place we won't be bothered."

Christine knew they were headed for the old church where they had spent that cold wet night. "The church? Why not just head out into that field over there?" she gestured to their right past a copse of trees.

"What we will be doing may be physically demanding and unless you would rather sweat under the sun, I think it would be better to have some sort of shelter over our heads," Erik replied.

Christine thought about that then agreed, "I think you have a point." She was thinking back to that night she spent shivering in his arms on the floor of that abandoned place of worship. It seemed like years ago to her.

They rode along at a good pace for quite awhile. It did not take them as long as she thought to reach the church, mainly because it had taken them so long to fight the awful conditions of the road on their return from that night. Erik helped her dismount, then led the horses over to the side of the church and removed their bits to allow them to graze while they worked inside.

Erik pushed the church door open, scaring a few birds that flew out of the hole in the rooftop. Feathers and dust blew up from the rafters. Christine stepped past him into the room, smelling the familiar must of mold and aged wood. She saw her ruined dress lying in the heap where she left it. No doubt it had become a suitable home for some mice or other little critters. She paced over to it and lifted it from the dirty floor, remembering how Erik had removed it from her body.

Suddenly his heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder and she shrieked loudly, dropping the garment and automatically leaping forward.

"Erik what are you doing?" she demanded loudly.

"Attacking you," he replied nonchalantly. "You were supposed to elbow my sternum, remember?"

"You scared me to death!" she shrieked at him.

"How else did you expect to learn to react reflexively?" he questioned.

Christine responded with, "My reflexes tell me to jump and scream, not lash out!"

Erik stepped back and replied, "Reflex's can be learned. Your instinct tells your body to flee, which is always your best option, but what if I was not alone? Would you have known it before you turned around?"

Christine stood silent.

"The purpose of training in self defense is to mold your reflexes into something other than your first automatic response," he explained. Erik sighed, "I promise I will not do that to you again, but you need to be aware of your surroundings, even when you assume you are alone or only with me."

"Fine," she said, a little acid in her tone.

Erik ignored her smart remark. He stood before her and explained, "This first lesson, I will not be armed. I want you to draw your blade when you hear me come up behind you; pretend I am someone you don't know who has approached you alone on a dark street."

Christine turned around and waited. She heard nothing from Erik, not even his breathing. The apprehension grew, not knowing when he might spring. She slowed her breathing, listening carefully for any sound. The anxiety of waiting grew on her and her palms started to sweat. She crossed her arms in front of her, secretly sliding her finger up her sleeve, ready to draw.

Suddenly she heard a small noise from behind her and as quickly as she could, drew the blade and held it tightly as she turned to face her attacker!

There was nobody there. Erik was not in the room anymore.

"Erik?" she called out. She paused, hearing nothing. How could he have vanished without her hearing him? She cautiously tip toed to the front door that had been left slightly ajar. Her senses were peaked as she listened for any sound that might herald his presence. She heard a few birds chirping in the distance and the slight rustling of grass, she heard the horse's teeth grinding on grass not too far away. As she stepped out the door, Erik suddenly sprang out from behind her! She slashed blindly towards him as she spun around to face him and felt the blade skim across a plank of wood he held in front of himself.

"Good," he praised. "Although next time, keep your feet closer together, like a pirouette."

"I thought you said you wouldn't do that to me again!" Christine shouted angrily.

Erik said, "I should have specified. My apologies. I should have said I would not grab you again when you were not prepared for it."

Christine seethed and breathed loudly through her nose. "I thought you were going to teach me, not scare me half to death!"

Erik sighed, "How else do you expect to learn to trust your senses? Do you think your opponent is going to come waltzing up and introduce themselves before pushing you to the ground?"

Christine didn't want to admit he was right. It just irritated her that he seemed so amused by scaring her like that. "Will you please just show me how to handle the knife and then you can try something like that again? How am I to defend myself if I don't know how?"

"Fair enough," Erik told her. "Come over here then, and I will show you how to move your feet to avoid falling off balance. First we need to get your body used to moving in a certain way. It's not that different from dancing, as I mentioned last night, so it shouldn't be too difficult for you to pick up."

Christine was a little annoyed with him, but after a few minutes of instruction, she realized he was going over a familiar dance step routine. "I recognize this!" she exclaimed.

"Like I said, it's as simple as a dance. Now I need to show you how to properly swing the blade out to cause effective wounds." He went through many movements with her, sometimes standing behind her to guide her hand in the right motion, making her repeat them over and over again until the movement was second nature to her. He showed her technique and stance, moving through more and more difficult maneuvers that involved turning and changing hands with the blade. Two hours passed and Christine finally begged respite. They were both sweating a little and Erik had removed his mask at her insistence. He wiped his face onto his sleeve and told her he would be right back.

Christine stood by and waited, but was puzzled when he stepped outside and then returned a few moments later carrying something. Her jaw dropped in horror when she saw him draw out an angry looking knife of his own.

"Cutting someone unarmed is easily done, but the real trick is to defend yourself against someone else with the same weapon." He threw the sheath over onto a collapsed pew bench with a soft clatter. His body suddenly took on a different stance. His posture changed as he crouched slightly, he grasped the knife in his right hand, just as he had shown her. He grinned devilishly as he twirled the blade handle in his hand, flicking the steel point out toward her and back in, then tossed it up into the air and caught it by the sharp end and flipped it once more so the handle rest in his palm. He tossed it back and forth between his two hands expertly. He looked very dangerous and his movements were cat like in their speed and fluidity. She found it immensely appealing.

"Showing off?" she said, as she tried to mimic his stance.

"Yes, but that's the point. If you were someone looking for trouble, you would think twice about bothering me, wouldn't you?" Erik purred.

"Only if I wished to bleed to death," Christine teased.

Erik chuckled. "Attack, if you can," he taunted her, still twirling his blade.

She circled him, keeping her feet wide and her side to him. She paced one way then the next, and then lunged forward with her blade arm, striking upward fluidly. She felt her knife glance off his with a metallic scrape as she spun then countered his strike with a defensive block. He kept his moves methodical and graceful, but allowed her to strike with her full force to get the feel of it. She being a beginner was easy for him to predict her attacks and thoroughly enjoyed watching her smooth elegant dance around him. They mirrored each other's action with a countering reaction of rhythmical pushes and pulls.

In minutes they were both breathing hard. Christine delivered one final strike from down below, bringing her blade up as though to slice upwards across his face. He caught her knife's edge with his own and followed it up, then twisted his hands to knock the handle from her grasp. Then he clutched her hands and held them as the shocked look came over her face at being disarmed. He smiled and without another thought, brought his lips to hers as he traced his hands down her arms to draw her in. She broke the kiss only to gasp for breath then pulled him closer for a deeper kiss, letting her tongue explore his mouth as she pressed harder against him.

The sudden inertia of her kiss only served to drive him on. He held her tightly to his chest, tossing his knife to the side. His tongue lashed hers with a ferocity he had never felt before. Seeing her dance around him so strong and sure of herself aroused him in ways he had not expected. He pressed her soft breasts against his chest, feeling his heart beat even faster than before in the excitement of their play fight. He pushed her back until she was pressed against the church door. She squinted the sunlight out of her eyes as she opened them in surprise as her back made contact with the solid barrier. Erik's eyes were closed, his brow down in the concentrated pleasure of kissing her. Her eyes closed again and she surrendered to the movement of his lips and tongue against hers.

Christine sucked in her breath as Erik's mouth left hers and he stooped to press a wet kiss to her neck. His hands were suddenly pulling her waist close to his and she felt the firmness of his hips against her own. He sucked and flicked his tongue against her neck making her head reel. He tasted the salt of her skin and smelled her perfume strongly in his nose as he buried his face against her shoulder. He paused in his ravaging kiss and took a daring breath, then slowed his pace and slid his hand up to cup her breast, breathing heavily against her skin.

Christine's breath caught in her throat when she felt his hand caress her through the thin dress. She felt lightheaded and dizzy and held onto his neck for support.

"Oh Erik," she moaned wantonly.

"Christine," he breathed against her mouth as he kissed her again. The sound of her voice saying his name like that drove him out of his mind. The random thought crossed his mind that they really should not be kissing like that in a church. He didn't care. If going to hell was the price for this pleasure, he would gladly pay it. He brushed his thumb across her nipple sending a shockwave up her spine. Christine arced her back away from the sensation of it, then melted against him once more, pleading for more with a whimper.

He took her reaction as permission to go further. His mouth kissed its way down her chest until it met his fingertips. He hesitated, reading her body language until all signs pointed for him to continue. He briefly thanked god she wasn't wearing a corset over her lightweight chemise under her dress as his mouth covered her upturned breast where it rested in his hand. She whimpered and pressed her hands into his hair, feeling the warmth of his mouth on her bosom. He nuzzled it there, feeling the hardness of her nipple through the flimsy fabric against his tongue. Her body jerked against his as he flicked it lightly.

It wasn't enough. He suddenly had to know what it tasted like to have her breast in his mouth. He reluctantly removed his lips from her, causing her to give a small cry of disappointment, and with both hands, quickly began unbuttoning her dress pushing the cloth aside to reveal her pale skin in the sunlight. His fingertips slowed the further he advanced down her center. He gradually unbuttoned her dress almost to her waist, then he leaned back as he slid the pale clothing out of the way. The darker flesh of her nipples stood out beneath the flimsy undergarment, one more boldly than the other due to the moisture from his kiss. With a leisurely pace, he pulled the ties undone at the front until the white ribbons were loose enough to push to the side.

Christine just stood before him, needing the wall for support as she watched him unwrap her. She knew she should stop him, but the need to feel his mouth on her again overrode the thought. If his mouth could create such pleasure through her clothing, she couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have his soft wet tongue caress her virginal flesh.

Erik dared to take his eyes off what he was doing for one single moment to look up into her face, catching her eyes. He saw the want in them and that was all the consent he needed. He slid his warm hands underneath her chemise and parted the material to reveal her pale chest. He gazed at them, memorizing the moment, then bent his head down to claim his prize between his lips.

The pleasure rang through Christine's body as she had never felt it before. She clung to him desperately wanting more of the sensation he was causing. He licked her hungrily, devouring her taste in a mindless frenzy, wishing he had two mouths so he could experience both teats at once. Her skin was salty from their exertions, but she smelled sweet and delectable to his senses. His manhood pressed painfully against his trousers, throbbing there with need. Unable to help himself, he slid a strong hand down to the crook between her legs to feel beneath the layers of clothing her most intimate place. A ragged breath escaped Christine's lips at his touch.

"Wait!" Christine breathed as she clutched him.

"Why?" he rasped intensely, wanting to continue.

"Not like this," she pleaded reluctantly.

Erik groaned a deep guttural protest and paused in his pleasure seeking. He fought his every instinct to continue. His lips were swollen and he stared at her wet breasts beneath his mouth causing his body to twitch with desire.

"Please," he pleaded, ashamed to do so. "I want you so badly," he admitted as he kissed her mouth once more.

"Not like this," she repeated, unable to think of any other words to form a protest. She saw the torment in his eyes and it mirrored her own. She wanted him, there was no denying it and now there was no hiding it either.

He gave one last shuddering moan against her lips then closed her dress front with a reluctance he could scarcely bear and fiercely whispered into her ear, "Sweet Jesus, you will be the death of me I swear it."

Christine clung to him and replied, "I certainly hope not."


	30. Decisions and Temptations

Erik tore himself away from Christine, only daring to look into her eyes one last time before walking outside the door of the church. Had he chosen to linger after her protest, he would not have been able to help himself to more of her. The feel and flavor of her on his taste buds was the most delicious thing he had ever sampled. So far, he thought with a fleeting smile. He took the time to find the creek that wound its way through the trees nearby. Christine would wonder where he had gone, but he was in need of the chance to compose his willpower against her temptations. By the time he returned she would be fully clothed once more. His face burned at the memory of her half naked body displayed before him like a porcelain sculpture. The way she moaned and clutched him to her as he buried his face between her breasts drove him into a mania of need. He saw in her eyes what he felt inside himself. She wanted him too. Her eyes glowed with the delirium of pleasure at his touch and it was all he could do to stop when she asked.

But then, he recalled what she had orated in her breathless pause. 'Not like this' she had said; not 'please stop' or 'we shouldn't do this'. 'Not like this' meant not here or now. His rational brain knew he did not want their first time to be coupled in the dirt and dust of a dilapidated old chapel amidst debris and most likely mouse droppings. The smaller voice in his pants said otherwise; it did not care when or how and he had to silence its demands with the cold water from the creek bed.

He doused himself in the freezing water after removing his shirt, dipping his entire face into it and splashing the water over his sweaty tensioned body. He coughed and spat water, wiping it out of his eyes and shaking it from his ears. He sat on a large stone next to the edge to give himself time to think and to dry off with his shirt. He needed a few moments to wrap his mind around a concept he had not previously been capable of realizing; she wanted him. Just as he wanted her, he knew there was no mistaking that response from her for pity or obligation or amusement. He dared to wonder if she desired him as fully as he did her. Had she thought of the possibilities of what lie in store for them should they both continue down the path he had set them upon?

He swore to himself as he stood and replaced his shirt back over his head, allowing it to hang loose over his trousers. Never did he imagine he would be in this situation. Two weeks ago he would never have been able to dream she would be his beloved sweetheart. Two days ago he would not have imagined she would kiss him after their first date. And two hours ago he would never have conceived that she would allow him access to her naked body and practically beg for more. What next, he wondered? Did he dare to actually propose to her so soon? He always dreamed of having a long engagement with her in his treasure trove of fantasies he never thought were possibilities. Erik imagined how they would court society together, hand in hand along the streets of Paris. How Christine would blush politely as others would compliment her on such a fine choice in a fiancé. Endless scenarios like these had plagued his mind ever since he laid eyes on her. Now they were becoming reality and then some, he almost didn't know what to do.

The desire to ask her to be his wife was now in the forefront of his thoughts. If she desired him physically as he thought she might, did she also love him? Would she say yes? As much as he wanted to believe she would, he still feared her rejection to such an offer. They had already toed the tightrope and teetered towards the dangerous side a few times in the last two days. It was only respectable to wait some decent length of time after asking for a courtship before proposing marriage; then another agonizing stretch of time before the wedding. And the wedding night, his subconscious reminded him. Could he possibly wait that long? He already felt like tearing the hair from his head in frustration. The temptation to see how far she would allow him to take things was stronger than ever. His advance on her had been unsolicited but had not been received as unwelcome. What would his little Angel allow before she drew the line? Did he dare push his boundaries that far? Such difficult decisions rattled his soul into hesitant agony.

He started back toward the chapel to collect their belongings. The chill water of the creek had only temporarily dampened his urges and he looked down at himself in exasperation at his natural responses to such thoughts. It was going to be a painfully hard ride back to town, he thought.

During Erik's sudden absence, Christine stood in the absolute silence of the expansive room. She clutched at the undone halves of her partially removed clothing, trembling from her experience. She was suddenly aware that her lip hurt as she licked it; she hadn't even noticed it when Erik kissed her over and over. She could still feel the heat on her skin where he fondled her bare chest. A fire ember burned quietly beneath her skirt, awaiting him to stoke it once more aflame. She felt slick with wet there so much more than was normal that she wondered whether it was supposed to be that way. His touch there through her skirt had been so unexpected, she nearly lost her ability to stand upright. Rapturous delirium overcame her and she was surprised she had the faculties to tell him to stop.

Wait, she thought, she did not tell him to stop. She told him 'not like this'. Christine had not even realized what she spoke. Had she told him to stop it would have been a lie. Nothing in her mind or body wanted for him to ever stop doing to her what he was doing. She just knew, however much enjoyment she would receive from the ecstasy of their lovemaking, she wanted it to be entirely captivating; not distracted by discomforts of their surroundings.

As she buttoned her blouse back up, she wondered 'what am I thinking'? She was speaking to herself as though she was planning having sex with Erik. Had she even made that decision? _Yes_. As much as she wished to be a good girl, she could not deny what her heart had decided. She loved him, wanted to be with him in all ways. Only her conscious was screaming at her brain, beating it with pointless arguments that there were proper orders to such events. Courtship, engagement, marriage must come first.

Christine smoothed her hair back into its clasp where it had fallen out in curled tendrils. She compromised with herself; at least two of the three prerequisites. If he asked her to marry him, she promised herself, only then would she give in to desire. She knew good girls waited until their wedding night, but she did not figure they would have a long engagement should he ask her so why make him wait. As innocent of the unknown realm of the bedroom as she was, her heart beat like a rabbit's when she imagined what Erik could do to the rest of her.

At last he returned, hair dripping down his neck, his shirt hung open over his black pants. He strode toward her, a vision of masculinity and mystery with his deep dark features accentuated by his mask and contrasting clothing. She felt her heart flutter again and knew she was completely captivated by him. He approached her awkwardly, searching for words to say that would ease the tension of the moment. They both knew what the other wanted and yet they were both at a stalemate. He did not want to push her farther than she would be ready to handle, and she did not want to seem like such a promiscuous girl.

Erik gathered up his blade and hers from the stone floor without a word, blowing dust from them both and wiping the steel along his pants to clean the remaining dirt from the edge. He handed it to her handle first, to be replaced in the sheath under her sleeve.

"You did well today," he said, unable to think of a more nonchalant remark.

"Thank you. I have a great teacher," Christine replied, grateful he was not going to address their amorous encounter.

He smiled at her, flashing his white teeth impishly. "Race you back?" he suggested, and before she could respond, he was already mounting his horse.

Christine raced after him, leaping onto the gelding's back and spurring it to a gallop with the heel of her boot. The powerful animal beneath her and the rush of the wind in her face was exhilarating as she chased Erik down the dusty path.


	31. Complications and Explanations

They did not wish to tire the poor animals out so a few minutes into their race they had slowed and allowed the mounts to catch their wind. From there they rode leisurely back through the fields that lie south of town, listening to the birds and the buzz of insects, speaking only a few times. Christine asked more questions about where Erik learned combat and added in a few new inquiries of situations in which she might need to use her new knowledge. Upon seeing the edge of town over the hill, Christine unexpectedly spurred her horse into a gallop and took off with Erik chasing at her heels. They startled quite a few people with their mad race through town, but Christine was laughing the whole way.

Hooves skidded to a halt in the dirt of the yard in front of the stables at the inn. Their sides heaved with deep breath and they stamped their feet, impatient to be relieved of their riders and tack. Christine reined hers in for the stableman to take the lead then Erik helped her from the saddle, lifting her off by the waist and setting her down gently on the ground. He braved a kiss on her lips in front of the weathered horse keeper as he led the animals away.

"I win!" Christine exclaimed breathlessly.

"Only because I let you," Erik retorted with a smile.

She clasped his hand in her own and led him around the side of the inn, nervously wondering what Erik was thinking. Her face felt hot as she wondered what the evening would hold for them both. She did not see the large black carriage that waited in front.

"I'm going to my room to change out of this dress into something fresher," she said as they walked through the front door, leading Erik in behind her.

"Christine?" a familiar voice called out to her from the settee.

Erik's heart stopped beating.

Christine stood still, completely confused at the unexpected address. "Raoul?"

_Fuck _thought Erik.

Raoul had risen from the cushions to greet her and his face fell at the sight that greeted him. He stared at Erik's mask; then at Christine's hand grasping his, then at her suddenly anxious face.

"Christine?" I don't understand," Raoul stammered.

Christine blurted out, "Raoul, what are you doing here?" She was intensely aware of the cold statue that was Erik, standing frozen behind her.

Raoul looked from Erik to her and back again at the man in the mask. Clearly this was not the scene he expected to find upon arriving.

"Never mind that, who is this and what are you doing here with him?" recognition was dawning on his face that told him exactly who Erik was, not needing an answer to that question.

Christine did not say anything, her mouth working to come up with an explanation on the spot.

"I said, what are you doing here with this man, Christine?" Raoul repeated with more force. He watched Christine quail at the inquiry and she seemed to sink backwards towards the man behind her who still had not twitched.

Finally Erik moved; to Raoul's horror, placing himself between him and Christine. "I'll ask you not to shout at Mlle. Daae, monsieur," he snarled low as he set his stance defensively in front of her.

Christine felt the tension in the room escalate in that one utterance of a threat in the tone Erik used and she knew so well. "Raoul, please," she began, squeezing Erik's hand to signal him to let her handle the situation. "I can explain, but not here." She begged silently that Raoul would acquiesce to her unspoken plea for peace.

Raoul did not look at the moment as if he wished to wait to hear her excuse, but given the situation of the moment, he gave in. "Alright, Christine. I shall just wait here for you," he stammered.

Christine thanked him and apologized with her eyes as she gave a firm tug on Erik's hand to follow her from the room and up the stairs, practically dragging him away from the situation. When they reached the door to her bedroom, Erik pushed it open and strode in before her, pulling her in behind him and letting it slam shut, shaking the frame with its force.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Erik demanded, pacing the floor wildly.

"How should I know?" Christine defended.

"He obviously knew where to find you! Did you tell him where you would be this entire time?"

Christine held out her hand to calm him, but he was beyond calming. "How could I have done that? I didn't even know where we would be until we were well on our way here!"

Erik looked at her through dark eyes and knew she spoke the truth. "But how?" he wondered.

"I don't know," Christine replied. She stepped in front of him to stop his pacing and caught him with her hands on his arms. "Calm down, please."

"How can I be calm?" he shouted. "I finally have to myself here, then he shows up to ruin everything!" he tore himself out of her grasp and started pacing again.

Christine knew he truly feared losing her to Raoul, but she had never seen him so frantic in his jealousy. "Erik, look at me." Her voice was quiet but her words cut the room to where he fumed. "I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him.

Erik breathed deeply out his mouth, wanting to take heart in her words, but knowing it would not be that simple. "What are you going to tell him?"

Christine thought a moment. "I don't know Erik, perhaps the truth?"

Erik laughed, "As if the truth would convince that conceited brat!"

"Erik!"

"No, it's true! Listen to me; no matter what you tell him he won't believe you. All he will think is that I've somehow kidnapped you here to take advantage of you and spirit you away without another word never to be heard from again!" he was on the verge of tears now. Downstairs right at that moment was the biggest fear he had, standing in the flesh, ready to rip away his every happiness.

"Please," she pleaded with him to calm down. She couldn't stand to see him like this. "I don't know what he will think, but I need to know what I should tell him."

"Tell him what he wants to her, because that is all he is likely to listen to," Erik sneered derisively.

Christine stood still with her arms cross over her chest. She felt cold with unease at the suddenness of the situation. She was not ready to explain her relationship to anyone yet, least of all to Raoul. It would take delicate handling as to not hurt her friend and she begged God for more time to come up with the best way. She never wanted to hurt Raoul; he was her ever-glowing beam of sunshine. He would not, she feared, understand that he was no longer the love in her life. But she still loved him all the same. _Oh what shall I do?_

"Erik, let me go down and speak with him and find out why he is here and how he found me," Christine said.

Erik stared at her, painful torment in every nuance of his body language. "Please don't go down," he begged. "Just stay here with me. We don't need to know."

Christine moved closer to him, hearing the fear in his voice, "I will be right back, I promise."

She reached up to place her tiny hand on the side of his face. He gripped it tightly at the wrist and pulled her close, hugging her tightly to him, imagining that once she walked out that door he would lose her to Raoul forever.

"Hurry back to me, please," he choked into her hair as he squeezed her one last time. He prayed she would do just that.

"I will." Christine left his embrace and opened the door, "Wait for me here."

Erik nodded, his eyes wild with anguish. He slowly sank down on the bed as Christine shut the door behind her. He reached up with hands that shook and removed his mask to cry in the emptiness of her absence.

Christine stood outside her door a few moments, gathering her breath and courage. As she neared the stairs, she heard Marie's voice talking jointly with Raoul's.

"I tell you, Monsieur le Vicomte, he has been the impeccable gentleman."

"How can you be certain? Have you spent all your time watching over Christine? You know what an impressionable young girl she is!"

Christine listened to Raoul's voice sounding so protective of her. She knew she had wronged him in not letting him know she was going away. He must have been very worried for her.

"He saved her life, more than once in this last week Raoul," Marie continued to defend Erik to him.

"What do you mean? Christine was in danger?" Raoul's voice escalated. "What happened?" he demanded.

Marie sighed audibly, "Christine was alone and trapped when a terrible storm came through here and he rode off to find her. Then just two days ago they were attacked by three men and he fought them off and brought her back to safety. You may rest assured that had she been here alone, she would have most certainly died."

Raoul's voice cut through the air, "And had she stayed in Paris, none of that would have ever happened at all!"

Marie exclaimed, "You cannot justify reasoning on what may or may not have happened. All I know is what has happened, and I can vouch for M. Durand's perfect manners and respect for Christine."

"So that's the monster's name?" Raoul spat back.

Christine felt an angry heat spread over her face as she eavesdropped on the landing.

"Watch your tongue, young man!" Marie chided. "Why on earth would you call him a monster? Surely you wouldn't hold his deformity against him? He cannot help that!"

Raoul replied, "His face has little to do with it. Did you know how he met Christine? How he deceived her into thinking he was her father's Angel of Music?"

Silence.

"He kidnapped her and held her against her will in his dungeon beneath the opera and would only release her if she sang his music for him," Raoul explained.

Marie was quiet for some time then, "Oh, I see. But surely things have changed now? If you only saw the two of them together…"

"I do not know what power he holds over her now, but rest assured I will not allow him to continue it."

"Shouldn't you let Christine decide that for herself?" Marie asked. "I have it on good first hand authority that she is happy to be here with him. She is, after all, practically engaged to him now."

Christine could almost hear Raoul's heart screech to a halt.

"No. It can't be true…" Raoul said in disbelief.

Christine knew she had to put an end to this. She stepped down onto the lower stairs where they could see her. "It's true, Raoul," she confessed. "Erik and I are courting now, which means you have little say in what I do with him here." She spoke with a confidence she did not feel and she knew her words were cutting him like a knife.

Raoul stared at her unbelieving, still imagining her to be under some sort of spell. She could also see the hurt in his eyes as she reached the bottom of the stairs and faced him.

"How long has this been going on without my knowledge?" he finally choked out.

"He propositioned me only a few days ago. We have not been long in this relationship," Christine admitted.

Marie knew her part in this was done, and she disappeared into the next room, unnoticed by Christine or Raoul.

"Then why did you come here with him?"

Christine was not ready to answer that so she retorted, "Why are you here, Raoul? How did you know where to find me?"

Raoul was taken aback by her attitude. "After I had not heard from you for a few days, I went to the opera to find you. I asked around for your whereabouts and it seemed nobody knew where you had gone to." Raoul ran a hand through his blonde curls. "I went to speak to the managers and they said they had had a letter from you stating you were coming here to visit your father's grave."

Christine nodded for him to go on. She knew Erik had let the managers know of her absence. It all made sense.

"I asked to see the letter, but after they showed it to me, I realized it was not written in your hand. I thought you had been abducted so I began a search for you around Paris at first, then I took the first train here on the chance you had truly come as the letter stated."

Christine motioned for Raoul to sit and she joined him on an adjacent couch.

"I first went to my aunt's old summer estate then began asking about through town at all the inns to see where you might be. It was a long shot but I ended up here and Mme. Beauchamp recognized me and said you were indeed staying here, but that you were out. She seemed flustered to see me and that seemed strange, but now I can see why." Raoul shot her an accusing glance.

Christine nodded, accepting his story. "I'm sorry if I caused you any anguish over my disappearance. I would have told you I was leaving, but it was rather short notice and I honestly did not know where he was taking me."

Raoul waited for her to continue.

"He wrote the letter to the managers and brought me here as a surprise. I did not know our destination until we were already on our way," she explained, trying to make it sound like a good enough excuse for not letting him know of her whereabouts.

"Why would you go anywhere with him? And why would you leave and not even know your destination?

Christine did not know how to answer that question without hurting him. "Raoul, please don't ask me so many questions. I never meant to hurt anybody by going away."

Raoul stood and came to her side, "Did you not think that you would not be missed? Going away without a word to anybody…"

He tried to grasp her hands, but she pulled hers away and stood to move. He was too close to her and she felt overwhelmed with the guilt of what she was doing to him. She couldn't look at him, because every time she did, she saw her childhood sweetheart sitting there, pleading with her for an innocent kiss. It was not for lack of love that she did not wish to be near him. She did love Raoul, but the difference in that love and what she felt for Erik was so stark in its contrast it was almost difficult to reconcile. Raoul was her friend and the one person who knew her longer and better than anybody else alive. _Oh why did he have to come here? _Christine screamed inside. Although she knew this day would come once she and Erik returned to Paris, she was not prepared for the turmoil her decisions caused inside her.

Raoul could see her struggling inside her head. "I thought," he began, "I thought you and I were together. We were always supposed to be together," he said, trying to deny what he saw in her inner struggle.

"I know what you thought Raoul," she began, hugging herself as she stared out the window. "But things change. I've changed." She could not explain herself further.

Raoul came to stand behind her, "Surely things cannot have changed so much in less than a fortnight?"

Christine choked back the lump in her throat. _Oh but they can Raoul, in ways even I did not know existed._

"Come for a walk with me?" he asked. She turned and his eyes were pleading with her. He needed more explanation than she had given. Not knowing all the details was killing him inside.

Christine thought about what Marie had said. She was not to be alone with another man without a chaperone. But this was Raoul; her dearest friend. Surely it would be alright if they simply walked together. She needed to be alone with him, even if only for awhile so she might explain to him how she felt about Erik, away from the eyes and ears of the inn.

"Alright, Raoul," she agreed, "But only for a moment." And with that she walked out the front door, not checking to see if Raoul was behind her.


	32. Confessions and Accusations

Christine walked along the street, not wishing to go far, but she needed distance between them and Erik, should he wish to eavesdrop. The words she had for Raoul were for his ears alone. Raoul kept pace with her, not questioning where they were going. When they reached a side street that led behind a few buildings and cut down to the wharf she led them down it. There would be enough people down that way so nobody could accuse her of being alone with another gentleman other than Erik.

"I'm so sorry Raoul, for causing you to worry on my behalf," she began as they tread lightly on the wood planked dock. The ships in the harbor were busy with the usual business of the day, loading and unloading their cargo. This dock was at present empty and she walked toward the end of it out over the grey waters below.

"Christine, I know you say I have no business knowing where you are and what you are doing, and you are right in that, but did you honestly think I could not worry for your welfare when you simply disappeared without an explanation?" Raoul asked.

Christine hung her head in shame. Raoul had a point and she did not want to admit it was cruel to simply leave him like that. She was always fearful of confrontations and she knew had she told him she was leaving for a week, he would have insisted on accompanying her and would not have taken no for an answer. Sweet chivalrous Raoul, always there to protect her with his kind words and good intentions.

Christine stopped walking when they reached the end of the pier and sat down on its weather worn edge, allowing her boots to dangle and swing over the side. "Raoul, so much has happened lately that I fear I cannot do justice to put it into words."

Raoul sat next to her, keeping a respectable distance. "You could at least try so I might understand why you would willingly leave with your purported kidnapper."

"Raoul," she said, shocked, "He never kidnapped me. You know that! I went to him willingly."

"Under false pretenses! How you ever managed to believe he was this mystical Angel is beyond me."

Christine hung her head in shame, "If you had just lost your father and the only person in your world, you would believe quite a lot to feel some sort of connection I'm sure." She addressed him directly, "I explained all this to you weeks ago at the masquerade. He brought me to his home to tell me the truth and because of my stupid curiosity in wanting to see his face, he felt threatened that I might expose him or disappear if he let me go back while I was still afraid. He never wanted to keep me there!"

Raoul sat silently, listening to her but not wanting to believe her words.

"Erik confessed everything to me and I've forgiven him for his untruthfulness. Let it be done and in the past. He was what I most needed when I felt incredibly lost and alone."

"And now he is much more to you, isn't he? You say you are courting him?" Raoul choked on the words as if the thought was inconceivable and sickening to him.

"Yes, Raoul," she whispered as she fingered the necklace she had been given as a token of that bond. "He and I have grown very close to one another."

"Closer than you and I?" Raoul pondered. "What of our friendship and our past? Does that mean anything to you anymore? I was under the impression we were courting."

"Did you just assume? You never formally asked me, Raoul," Christine said with some bite.

"Fine," he said, "Christine, I formally request to be your intended."

Christine gave him an exasperated glance, "Well that was romantic." She sighed, "It's a little late for that, Raoul. I'm already spoken for."

Raoul took her hand in his and said, "Then end it. You have the power to do that. Tell him you made a mistake. I know you still feel for me, I can see it in your eyes and if you try to deny it you will be lying." He fervently hoped he was right.

Christine stared at her hand in his, so warm and familiar. He was so annoyingly reassuring in his statement and she knew his words were true. "It's not that easy, Raoul. I cannot break with him when I truly have no desire to do so."

Raoul stared at her a moment, "You're lying right now," he accused blatantly.

Christine got angry with him. "No I'm not! I have no reason to leave Erik and no amount of arguing on your part is going to change my mind."

"No reason except me," he said. His words rang in her ears and she knew there was truth in that simple statement. Hadn't Raoul been what she always dreamed for? Wasn't it her father's dying wish to see her well married to him?

"You can't honestly expect me to believe you find him attractive. You told me what his face looks like under that flimsy mask he wears," Raoul said with a hostile air.

Christine was exasperated, "You have no idea what you are talking about! No, he is not the best looking man I've ever met, but the way a face looks is not the only facet to finding attraction in someone!" she shouted. "Why am I even trying to explain this to you? You've never known what it feels like to be an outcast, unlike him or me."

He blew his breath out and made an expression of revulsion as he imagined his darling Christine gazing upon Erik's face with any emotion other than repulsion.

"I'm sorry Christine, but I think you have been brainwashed into thinking of him as some kind of savior. Ever since you started going on about how he had the voice of an Angel, you've sounded mad," he said, shaking his head. "Perhaps you've forgotten how much you feared him when you came cowering into my arms at the masquerade, but I have not."

"Raoul that was some time ago; you weren't there, so you don't know how much anguish I caused him in taking his mask away when all he wished for was that I never see his greatest shame. His anger was more at himself and he did not know what to do and frightened me with it." She could see she was not getting through to Raoul. "I'm with Erik now, just accept it and move on. We both know you have no shortage of women vying for your attention and I'm sure your brother would be happier if you married better than me."

"There's no one better than you for me, Christine," Raoul exclaimed and he kissed the back of her hand.

Frustrated with her longtime friend, she took her hand back and stood to leave.

"I'm sorry things are different between you and I now," she sad sadly as she looked down at him. "I have to go back. I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have come." She turned and started to walk away.

"Christine!" Raoul sprang up to follow her, "Stop!"

She did, to her shame, and turned around. "Why Raoul?" She no longer had the strength to continue her arguments against his truths. Her hands hung at her sides, a gesture of her resignation in a battle to convince him that she would never win.

Raoul stepped forward and said, "I love you, Christine," as he bent his head low to kiss her.

Christine stood still. She did not kiss him back and it felt so incredibly wrong for Raoul to be kissing her. While Erik's kiss had ignited a spark in her, Raoul's kiss felt strangely ineffectual; almost brotherly. She jerked her head back and slapped him with full force across his face.

"How dare you kiss me! Never do that again!" she spat, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned on her heel angry and outraged at his presumption.

Raoul's head reeled from her strike. "Christine, I'm sorry. Please come back," he pleaded after her but she was already striding away towards the wharf.

He stood watching her leave, listening to the water slap wetly against the posts of the dock. A seagull cried overhead. "Please wait," he called out one last time. To his surprise she stopped just at the end.

She turned toward him and he could see tears in her eyes. She ran back to him, closing the distance quickly and threw herself into his arms. "I'm sorry Raoul. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt anybody, least of all you. Please forgive me," she said into his shoulder as she clung to him.

He stroked her hair as he held her to him. Then, to his surprise, she leaned back and looked into his eyes before pressing her lips to his very softly.

"I love you too, Raoul," she confessed in a choked whisper. "Please leave," she pleaded and she tore herself out of his arms and ran away down the dock to disappear around the corner, leaving Raoul bewildered.


	33. Heartache and Loneliness

Erik waited in the silent room a very long time. Every tick of the clock was an agonizing tiny stab at his heart with the dagger-like hands. The rhythm in his chest pounded out a mantra. _She's not coming back. She's not coming back. _

_I should never have let her go, _he thought.

He was afraid to retreat to his own room, in case she returned and he missed her. He did not trust himself to follow her. As difficult as it was to be absent for her conversation with Raoul, he knew every word he overheard would follow him to an early grave should he listen and hear what he did not wish to.

_She's not coming back. She's not coming back. You stupid idiot, why did you let her leave the room?_ He berated himself. And yet, he reminded himself, she had clung to him before she went, promising to return.

_Of course she'll return. All her things are still here, _his brain screamed at him.

She was gone for what seemed like a century before he heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. They were coming up fast.

Christine burst through the door, her face was red and tear stained and her chest shook with the sobs that wrenched out her mouth.

"Christine, My God what has he done?" Erik practically shouted as he quickly gathered a disheveled Christine into his arms. "I'll kill him if he's laid a hand on you!" he promised over the din of her sobs.

"He didn't do anything," Christine cried. "He didn't do anything. I'm the one who's done everything." Her voice was muffled in his shirt and her hair.

"I don't understand," Erik said, truly confused, and yet overwhelmingly relieved she had returned as she promised.

"How could I be so cruel?" Christine said tearfully. She felt like collapsing on the floor as the guilt overwhelmed her. She burned shamefully as she clung to Erik, knowing full well what secrets she now hid from him. What would hurt more, she wondered; telling Erik everything that transpired on the dock and seeing the betrayal on his face, or living with the truth burning her soul to hell?

"Christine, please calm down," Erik pleaded, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. "Tell me what happened."

Christine caught her breath and rubbed the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry, Erik," she stammered out.

Erik's felt his soul wrenched from his chest with the dread of those words and whatever connotations came with them. "Sorry for what?" he asked fearfully. "Please tell me what has upset you so badly?"

Christine looked at him through her tears, seeing Erik's blurry masked face. She blinked her eyes clear again, feeling the salty tears drip off her cheeks as she did. The anguish in his eyes was more than she could stand. She knew he had not expected her to return. "I can't tell you." She pleaded with him wordlessly with her face to just understand that some things are better left unsaid.

Erik stroked her hair, not knowing how to react. Did he stay and comfort her or did he go out and find that stupid boy and rip his heart from his chest. "What can't you tell me? I promise you can tell me anything," he said, not believing for an instance the validity of his own words.

"Please," Christine begged again. "Just hold me."

And so he did, although his stomach felt ill, his mouth was dry and he felt lightheaded. "You're leaving with him aren't you?"

The unexpectedness of his response shook her. It took her a moment to find her voice and he took her hesitation as an answer. He abruptly stood up, practically knocking her off the bed in his exit.

"No, I'm not going anywhere," Christine protested.

"Then why beg my forgiveness for something you cannot speak of?" he rounded on her. "Did you think to spare me until you had packed your belongings and were ready to walk out the door?"

"Erik," Christine stammered. "Please, come back," she motioned for him to come to her on the bed.

He hesitated, his hand on the door handle. "Why should I come back if you are leaving?"

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Christine exclaimed frantically. "I'm not leaving!"

Erik wanted to believe her. He desperately wanted to hope against hope that he still had the upper hand for Christine's affections.

"Please, Erik. I need you." Her statement was simple. She was not begging; it was a truthful statement. "Don't make me lose you today too."

Her words shocked him. "What do you mean by that?" he asked as he turned around. He stared at her wild eyes and mussed hair, seeing the torment there of something indefinable. She looked so small sitting on the bed alone.

Christine did not have the voice to speak the consequences of her decision. She shook her head, meaning for him to see that it pained her to speak of it. She patted the bed next to her and he joined her once again, feeling the springs creak under his weight.

"Please hold me," she requested again. "I'm so very tired and I can't think anymore." The pressure of the pain in her chest was more than she could bear.

His arm crept tentatively around her shoulders as she began to cry once more. She melted into his embrace and he reclined onto the pillows with her head still resting against his chest. A thousand questions swirled angrily in his head but he knew he would have to wait for any answers. Christine was exhausted and there was going to be little point in badgering her tonight. He stroked her hair away from her moistened face then used the handkerchief from his pocket to dry her cheeks and eyelashes. She held tightly to his shirt, her body shivering with the overwhelming emotions she was feeling. Erik held her until her cries were quieted with a deep slumber. He prayed she was telling the truth that she was not leaving, but his heart felt heavy with doubt and he curled himself protectively around her as if it may be for the last time.

Christine awoke some time later, feeling the dry stickiness in her mouth from having breathed through it. Her nose was stopped up and her eyes felt puffy and gritty from crying. Darkness had fallen and she could just make out Erik's white shirt in the pale light. His breathing was soft and even and his warm arms were laxly wrapped around her. She did not want to wake him, but needed to wash the salt from her face and cleanse her mouth from the taste of her hastily spoken words. She carefully worked her way out of Erik's embrace, reluctant to leave it. He looked so peaceful in the dim moonlight.

She tip toed across the floor, thinking the floorboards creaked awfully loud. Christine quietly splashed water onto her face, taking care to not make much noise. She drank some water from a glass on the table, swishing it around in her mouth to rid herself of the taste of open mouthed sleep. She had dreamt in her brief sleep, of Raoul coming to take her away. Erik had cried, reaching out for her, but she had been unable to reach him. Most of the rest of the details of her nightmare faded as soon as her feet touched the floor. All she knew was she felt horrible for it all.

Erik stirred behind her.

"Christine?" he whispered.

"It's alright, Erik. Go back to sleep," she said, knowing full well he would not.

Erik reached over and lit the wick in the bedside lamp with the pop of a match. She smelled sulfur momentarily then the odor dissipated along with the darkness of the room. She hissed and squinted as the bright light blinded her. Erik reached over and turned the light down to a soft glow and Christine joined him in bed once more.

"What were you doing up?" Erik asked. "Is everything alright?"

"I just needed a drink of water. My throat was dry after earlier," she did not want to think about earlier.

"Are you better now?" Erik asked openly. He let her interpret that how she may.

Christine said, "Yes I think so; and also no." she crawled up next to him and lay with her head on a pillow, thinking how strange it felt to be so comfortable next to him in a bed.

"No?" Erik whispered into her ear. "Care to elaborate?" he asked hesitantly.

"I feel absolutely wretched, Erik," she started. "Raoul came here because he was worried about me. He thought I had been kidnapped by you or someone else and came looking for me."

_I told you so_ Erik thought but would never say it out loud.

"Erik," she said as she played with a button on his shirt front, "I've hurt him."

_Good._

"The way you were crying I thought it the other way around," he said.

"He hurt me too, although not how you think he might have," she admitted.

Erik settled back down into bed with her, his face resting on the pillow next to hers so their eyes were level in the flickering light.

"Will you tell me what happened?" he tried once more to find out what transpired.

Christine did not want to. She knew how hurt he would be if he knew any details of any of it. "He accused you of entrancing me."

Erik did not expect to hear that and almost laughed, "Does he still believe the opera ghost rumors?"

"Erik, I'm serious. He thinks you have me under some kind of control that I'm unable to get away from. He doesn't understand how I could possibly be attracted to you."

Erik nodded, swallowing hard as he did not understand it either. "He came here to steal you away, didn't he?"

Christine shamefully nodded yes.

"And you are upset because you don't know whether or not to leave with him? Is that it?" Erik choked out.

"No!" she said, sitting up a little in bed. "No, that isn't it at all. I told him I didn't want to leave. I told him that he should go and he shouldn't have come in the first place."

Erik was skeptical. "I seriously doubt he is going to leave if he thinks you are not in your right mind being with me."

"I'm worried about that too," she confessed. Deep down she knew it was not the last time she would see Raoul and that another confrontation between he and Erik was only inevitable. Oh, why had she kissed him? Why had she told him she loved him? She only meant it as a gesture of apology. She loved him as a brother, but now in hind sight, he might see her confession as something else, which would only encourage him further.

"I don't like seeing you cry like that, Christine," Erik said truthfully. "You know I can't bear to see you unhappy."

"I know that, Erik," she replied. "It's just that I feel I've just lost my best friend." Her voice hitched on that last sentence, knowing it to be all too true. She was completely torn. Stay with her love, and lose her dearest friend; say goodbye to the inferno Erik brought out in her for the comforts of a hearth fire?

Erik felt guilty. He hated the Vicomte more than anybody else, but he never wanted to see Christine hurt as a result of that loathing. "I'm sorry Christine, but you can't be with us both." He knew he was making her choose and felt awful for it because it hurt her to do so, not because he didn't want to be the victor.

"Don't you think I know that?" she said back, fighting back tears. She exhaled loudly. "I need to sleep." She rolled over and faced away from him so he would not see the tears on her pillow. He settled in behind her, draping his arm around her waist and began to hum a lullaby softly. Despite feeling him cupping her body behind her and holding her close, she had never felt lonelier.


	34. Betrayal and Loss

Erik awoke groggily after he heard some shouting in the hall downstairs. _Somebody shut that drunken sot up_ he thought drowsily to himself as he shifted in Christine's bed. He didn't want Christine to wake now that she was sleeping peacefully.

Erik's ears perked up when he heard Marie's voice raised back at the intruder, "You cannot go into her room unannounced in the middle of the night, and certainly not in the state you're in! Monsieur le Vicomte, come back here!" she shouted.

Erik heard loud footsteps coming up the stairs towards the bedroom door. He knew the door was not latched since he had been the last person to touch the handle since Christine came in. Just as Christine stirred and murmured, "What's going on, Erik?" Raoul noisily opened the door to her bedchamber.

Raoul held a lamp high, brightly lighting the room as he stood in the doorway. He seemed confused to find a larger than expected collection of limbs on the bed. Christine's head appeared over Erik's shoulder and she shrieked a little.

Raoul stared after her, swaying slightly. "What's going on?" he shouted. "What is this impropriety?" His voice escalated with every word. Christine could see Marie standing helplessly in the hall behind him shaking her head apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Christine, he wouldn't stop," she stammered, then shooed her maid away to fetch someone else.

"Raoul what are you doing in here?" she demanded now completely awake and attempting to scramble from her bed around Erik's alert body.

Erik stood up quickly and smoothly from the sheets, pressing his hands down against Christine's shoulders for her to stay in it. He stood solidly between Raoul and Christine, not knowing what he was possible of doing when he was drunk. Raoul carried a short blade at his side, and Erik was no fool; he knew Raoul could use it.

"You're drunk, M. le Vicomte," Erik stated as he turned the bedside lantern higher. Raoul's own source of light was swaying madly as he couldn't keep his balance.

"What the hell are you doing in bed with her?" Raoul roared at him. "If you've touched a singled hair on her head, if you've violated her…"

Christine flinched and despite Erik's blockade, got out of bed and said back, "You need to leave Raoul. Just go, now!" Her bloodshot eyes shot back and forth between the two men, terrified now for both of them.

"I will not leave until someone explains what the fuck is going on here!" Raoul yelled.

"Do not use that language here monsieur," Erik warned, his hands were up in a gesture of warning.

"Christine, how could you do this? How could you sleep with this man? The maid told me when I asked what she knew of it and she said you were sleeping together!" Raoul swayed and caught himself on the dresser. His words slurred together the angrier he became. "I didn't want to believe it, but then I find you like this," he gestured toward them both.

Christine bit her lip and stood by Erik's side. "We haven't done anything, Raoul. Whatever you might have heard…"

"I just saw you together! You're here in bed together. What have you done to her?" he demanded of Erik. "Is that why you whisked her off to the countryside? So you could fuck her at your leisure?"

Erik's face burned and burned. He wanted so badly to shut that hole in the middle of Raoul's beautiful face with his fist. He wanted to forever silence that boyish timbre with a slice of his knife for ever insinuating Christine was anything less than honorable.

Christine stepped around Erik to defend her and him, "We haven't done anything! He hasn't spoiled me, not that it's any of your concern," she shouted. "And in case you haven't noticed, we are fully dressed!"

This fact had obviously escaped Raoul's attention because he looked them both over to account for the articles of clothing a fully dressed person should be wearing. "As if that matters," he retorted. He pointed a finger icily at her face, "So, is this what you wish to be; the whore of a monster?"

Christine's face fell. She felt as though he had punched her in the stomach for those words took all the wind from her chest. Even Erik was unable to move for the rage it caused him at hearing his beloved called such a filthy word by a man whom he knew supposedly loved her too. He found his voice though.

"I should kill you for calling her that," he threatened. His fists were balled at his sides so tightly to prevent himself from striking that he felt his nails cutting into his palms. His body shook with rage and he knew that if the boy did not leave the room soon he would not be able to stop himself.

"Be my guest, she's already delivered the first blow," Raoul slurred. "Christine, only hours ago you said you loved me." His rage suddenly turned to sadness, "You kissed me. You said you loved me," he repeated as though those words could erase the truth he saw before his own eyes. Christine stood by Erik's side, not his. She had shared the bed of this monstrosity and told him to leave. It was more than he could bear.

Erik's world slowed and constricted down to a single pinpoint of focus as he heard the words come from Raoul's mouth. His ears rang from the blood pressure dropping so suddenly and he thought he would faint from the shock of it. _She kissed him. She said she loved him. _Suddenly all her behavior since she returned to her room made all the more sense to him. Why else would she be crying and ask for his forgiveness?

Christine's panic erupted as she turned and saw the blank stare on Erik's face. She never wanted Erik to know, she feared he would never understand that she loved them both, however differently.

"Raoul, please," she pleaded. "Just go." She felt the tears streaming down her face again and wondered absently how long she had been crying.

Raoul gave one last look between his masked opponent and the girl he loved. He spat wetly at the floor by her feet. "I hope you are happy with your lot. Don't come back to me when he's had his way with you and leaves you in the gutter where you belong."

Christine felt the last punch to her soul acutely. She watched Raoul turn from the room and he stumbled down the stairs, shoving someone out of the way who had come running to help. She heard the stranger's shout of indignation, then the front door slammed loudly as Raoul left into the night.

Christine stared at the open empty doorway awhile before she realized Erik was still standing there, unmoving.

"Erik?" she asked timidly.

She placed a small hand on his shoulder. He violently wrenched it away from her as he broke out of his stupor. When he turned on her, she had never seen such emptiness in his eyes. "Erik, please let me explain…"

"You kissed him?" his voice was hollow. It sent chills up her spine and she felt like there was truly a ghost standing before her.

"Yes," she said, unable to deny it now.

Erik's eyes closed to slits and when he opened them again, they were wet with tears. He began to gasp for air. "Why Christine?" his hands feebly opened toward her, "How could you do this to me?"

"Erik please, I can explain," she said, wondering if he even listened.

"Is this a game to you? Was it your intent all along to play me along then leave me?" His voice cracked and she was almost unable to understand the end of his question.

"No, it was nothing like that Erik," she held out her hand toward him again, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

"All this time you were in love with him. You let me believe you cared for me. You let me think…"

"Erik, I was kissing him goodbye."

Erik turned around to leave.

"Erik wait!" she shouted. He stopped. "If you want to leave, I won't stop you but please at least hear the truth."

As much as he wanted to run from that room, he stayed there, still praying that the tiniest spark of his life that was left to him would not be stamped out by her words.

"I went with him to tell him goodbye and explain how I felt about you," she began, relieved he had not left. "When he wouldn't listen, I left. He tried to stop me and he kissed me." She saw Erik's shoulders hunch at the admission. "I slapped him, Erik. I slapped him so hard it hurt my hand and I stormed away after I told him to leave me alone."

Erik's voice was like ice, "And at what point in this whole secret rendezvous did you tell him you loved him?"

Christine accepted the poison in his voice as she deserved it. "I couldn't part ways with him like that. He had to know how I felt. He had to understand that I love him but not in the same way he loved me. When I kissed him, I was kissing him goodbye, knowing that it would be the last time I saw him."

When Erik didn't move, she saw the smallest glimmer of hope that she might redeem herself and get back what Raoul had carelessly destroyed in a matter of seconds.

"He obviously misunderstood. That must have been some kiss you gave him," was Erik's cold reply. "Goodnight, Christine," he hissed crisply then strode out of the room.

Christine collapsed in a heap on the floor, feeling the painful thud of her knees hitting the solid wood through the thin rug. "Erik, come back," was her mournful cry, but it was too late. Erik was already gone.


	35. Tears and Understanding

***Sorry for the mistake with the previous chapter 32 Confessions and Accusations. I accidentally replaced its content with that of Chapter 33. If you saw the double post of content, please go back and read chapter 32 again. It's vital to the story. Thank you!***

Marie returned to Christine's room shortly after Erik left, leaving the front door ajar. Her maid was busy shooing people back into their rooms, explaining the commotion as a drunken guest who had caused a stir. Christine lay on the rug weeping inconsolably for her loss. She curled into a ball and cried so hard she nearly gagged. Marie helped her off the floor with a little coaxing and some physical persuasion. Christine stumbled into her bed, still warm from Erik's body. She could smell him on her pillow and that made his absence all the more cutting.

"He's gone," she sobbed. "They're both gone."

Marie sat at the edge of her bed and stroked Christine's hair away from her face. Now was not the time for her to deride. "Shhh," she whispered motherly. "Everything will be alright," she consoled.

"How could I do that to them?" Christine asked to no one in particular. "Those things Raoul said to me; I deserved them all."

"Of course not, Christine," Marie comforted. "Oh dear, I had a feeling something like this might happen when you told me of the jealousy Erik had for him. I know it's not easy for you to lose your friend over Erik, but perhaps it's for the better. Raoul would never have been able to understand why you didn't choose him in the end. He always had everything handed to him on a silver platter and he doesn't take rejection lightly, I can see." Marie continued stroking Christine's hair until her violent sobs calmed to an exhausting cry of torment.

"But now I've lost them both," Christine pointed out. "I've made such a mess of everything. Why did I tell Raoul that I loved him?"

Marie sighed and shook her head, "Because you obviously do. It would have eaten you away to never tell him so," she patted her shoulder. "Remember how I told you there are more kinds of love than just one? I cannot condone Raoul's behavior tonight or what he said to you but he must have been very hurt to realize you do not love him the same. It's going to take a long time for him to come to terms with that and even then he may never stop trying for you."

"I can't do this to him again. It was hard enough telling him to leave twice today. Why can't he just understand?" Christine cried.

"Because he loves you," was her simple reply.

"Do you think Erik will be back? Do you think he believed me when I told him what really happened between Raoul and me?" Christine asked desperately.

Marie was silent. "I don't know Christine. You've obviously hurt him very badly. But if he loves you as he says he does, he will forgive you and come to understand the pain it caused you tonight to be with him at the cost of losing your friend."

Christine sniffled, "Oh, Marie I hope so. I cannot bear to lose them both like this. I don't know what I would do if Erik never came back."

"I know sweetie I know," Marie said gently, remembering all too well the pain a first love can cause if everything falls apart.

"I love him," Christine said softly. "I love him so much and I've never told him."

Marie smiled sweetly at her friend. "When he comes back, tell him. Ask his forgiveness and understanding."

Christine nodded her head against the pillow. She curled tighter into a ball on the mattress and Marie drew the blankets up around her shoulders.

"Try to get some sleep. Let those boys blow off some steam. They will come to see reason in time." She was sure Christine would never have fallen asleep if she had not been so completely exhausted, but she soon heard her soft breathing slow and saw her body relax under the warm blankets. Marie stood and blew out the lantern by her bedside then quietly shut the door behind her, saying a little prayer for the girl.

Erik walked numbly out to the place on the cliff side where he asked Christine to be his. He kicked at the remnants of the fire with his boot, wishing for some remaining burnable fuel for a fire. He felt cold inside as well as out as the ocean wind blew over the rocks and cut through his shirt. _How fitting_ he thought. The wind felt as chilling as the sinking feeling in his stomach when he thought of Raoul's words over and over again. He heard the statement and saw the images in his head of Christine's precious lips pressed to that boy's perfect mouth. Christine's lips were for his and his alone and he couldn't stand to think of her kissing anybody else now.

He sat down on the damp wild grass that grew sparsely here and there, not caring that the dew seeped into the seat of his trousers. As much as it hurt to think about it, he replayed out the day in his memory from when Raoul showed up and spoiled everything. He analyzed and scrutinized Christine's every word and action. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew she was telling the truth. It would be easier for him if she was lying so he could feel anger towards her to match the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach caused by what he perceived as betrayal. As much as the doubt in him wanted to blame her and see Christine as a conniving deceitful girl, his rational mind argued with the evidence.

Christine had separated himself from Raoul in order to send him away. She had returned to him, crying into his arms. She had slept by his side, begging for him to hold her. She confessed telling Raoul to leave.

But why had she omitted the part about kissing him? Erik knew the answer before he asked himself. She knew he would react just how he had. What had it cost her to try and spare them both from the heartache and pain they were all feeling now? No wonder she was crying so much when she came back to the inn after talking to him.

Erik picked up a sea-worn branch of wood that had mostly escaped the flames those few nights ago. He drew with it in the sparse sand that was spread in patches along the ground like tide pools. _What am I to do now_ he wondered as he scraped Christine's name out with the tip of the wood. His pride prevented him from returning to the inn just yet. He was in no shape to confront her now and he needed time to sort out his feelings.

What it boiled down to, he realized, was whether or not he trusted the facts and admissions as they were laid out before him. Christine's behavior this past week towards him had not led him believe anything contrary to the fact that she had feelings only for him. She seemed as dismayed by Raoul's appearance as he had. Whether or not that was because she had not yet made her decision between them, her admission of telling him to leave and slapping him for the kiss he delivered impermissibly did seem to Erik like her mind was made up. Why else would Raoul have stormed into her bedroom the way he did if she had not denied him?

Erik curled his knees up against his chest and hugged them, laying his chin upon his forearms. He wondered if he could forgive Christine for what she had done.

_Yes._

He already had forgiven her. He always knew she felt for Raoul. Otherwise he would never have been so terrified of losing her to him. If she felt nothing for him, he would never have been at threat. Her actions to him today showed she had made her choice, but now he wondered if she regretted it. Would she change her mind?

And what of Raoul? Erik still burned with outrage at his mistreatment of Christine for her rejection. He still longed to make him suffer for causing her pain and torment. But then, did he not deserve the same? His accusations just before he left her room echoed inside his head. She was there pouring her heart out in confession to him and he dismissed it like so much rambling from a liar. He threw the burnt branch out over the rocks in frustration. He knew he had hurt her by walking out, but had he stayed, he might have said more and irreparably damaged further what he had struggled so much to build between them. However, Raoul was a problem. He was still here in town, and even if they returned to Paris on the next train, he would follow them back. As much as Erik hated to think of it, he knew that once Raoul sobered up he would come crawling back to beg Christine's forgiveness and once again attempt to make her see that he was the better option.

That is, unless Erik could stop him or convince him otherwise.


	36. Confrontation and Acceptance

Raoul's head pounded mercilessly when he awoke. The sun had barely begun to rise and yet the light was blinding him through his open window. His mouth was cottony and he desperately wished for some water. The scene that played out last night still lingered murkily in his head. He was not so drunk to forget all the words he said to Christine. Even as he regretted them, the scorn he felt at being denied his childhood love for a decrepit lecher still stung his heart painfully. His bed was irritatingly too soft and his legs were tangled into the sheets after a few hours of fitful sleep. He barely remembered stumbling back to his room at the chateau last night. He groaned and rolled over in bed trying to remember every painful detail of the encounter.

"You owe Christine an apology," a deep voice sounded from the chair in the corner.

Raoul shot out of bed, "Jesus Christ!" he swore as he fumbled for his pistol upon seeing Erik in his room.

"Oh, don't bother, I've already removed your ammunition so unless you plan to club me with it it's rather useless," Erik said smoothly.

Raoul fearfully looked at Erik sitting calmly before him; his hand shook as he dropped the pistol onto the bedside table. "How did you find me here?" he asked.

"The same way you found out Christine was here. I asked around," Erik said dryly. "It's not that difficult to find out where a handsome young Vicomte is staying in town. I hope you don't mind but I helped myself to some of your cognac. You were asleep longer than I expected."

Raoul edged around the bed nervously, keeping his body facing Erik, who had yet to move from his chair. He thought to call for help, but some deep seated instinct in him told him it would be foolish and he may be dead before anybody even heard him.

"What do you want from me?" Raoul asked, swallowing a few times to clear the stickiness from his throat.

Erik cocked his head, "I already told you. You owe Christine an apology. Although whether or not she forgives you is entirely up to her. You did, after all, call her my whore," Erik's voice was laced with hatred as he reminded Raoul of the wrong he did and that the insult applied to both of them.

"I called her that?" Raoul seemed genuinely shocked.

"Yes. Do you also not remember spitting at her before you stormed out?"

Raoul thought for a moment then indeed recall the affront. He moaned and rubbed his hand over his face. "Yes, I remember." He cautiously stood at the foot of the bed.

"Do you intend to kill me?" Raoul gulped. Erik's lax body before him reminded him of a panther about to pounce.

"Hardly, although you must know I came quite close last night. Had you not left when you did…" Erik let the sentence trail off suggestively. Raoul knew he wasn't lying.

"Then why come here?"

"I came to insist that you crawl back on your hands and knees and beg Christine's forgiveness for hurting her. You see, I would do anything for her happiness however it was not I that injured her so. I cannot apologize for you."

Erik was determined to remain calm. He kept telling himself over and over that he was with Christine and had already won so this little fop was of little threat or consequence to him.

Raoul stood there waiting for Erik to continue. When he didn't he said, "Trying to be good guy here I see."

Erik gritted his teeth before replying, "I'm attempting to be a proper gentleman and give Christine all she deserves."

"She deserves better than you," Raoul accused, gaining a little courage.

"Perhaps she does, but I do not intend to give up so easily. I did not begin our relationship as I would have liked months ago, but since bringing her here, I have made amends and have been a gentleman to her. I asked her for permission to court her and she has granted it. I would expect a fellow gentleman to respect her decision in that and behave honorably," Erik said quickly.

Raoul felt affronted to be placed on equal ground with Erik by his referral to him as 'a fellow gentleman'. "And do those amends include taking her into your bed?" he accused, taking a step forward.

Erik defended his words and stood to face Raoul, "I have done nothing of the sort. As Christine stated last night when you were not so keen to listen to her, we have done nothing. Yes, I've lain by her side when she needed me but I have no intentions of stealing her precious virginity until our wedding night, should she decide to accept my hand in marriage." Erik felt himself blushing by his adamant statement, knowing it was not entirely true. He lifted his chin high, daring Raoul to oppose his words.

"You intend to ask for her hand?" Raoul asked, abashed.

"Yes, eventually. Although I'm sure you suspected I had other plans to take her away and do vile things to her then leave her when the 'monster' has had his way," Erik sneered. "Does that come as such a shock to you that one such as I could have normal aspirations for happiness and a future?"

Raoul did not answer his question. He felt sick listening to Erik speak of Christine in such a way. "And should she refuse? What then? Will you take no for an answer? If she decides she wants to be with me will you come after me as well?"

"Oh sit down I'm not here to hurt you." Erik ignored his remark and resumed his place in the chair, "Should she refuse I will accept it and move on. I feel blessed that she has granted me the chance to win her heart and that has been more than I could ever dream for," Erik said honestly. He dreaded such a day should ever come, but he meant what he said. He would not force Christine into something she would regret forever. "If she refuses my request for her hand, I would accept it, just as you will need to accept it if she says yes."

"I love her," Raoul stated simply, still standing in defense.

"I know you do," Erik said plainly, "or else we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I have always planned to marry her," Raoul continued, not knowing why he bothered relaying such information to this man.

"Sorry to ruin your plans," Erik jeered with a cruel smile. "Until she refuses me, when and if that ever happens, you have no say in the matter." He stood once again to face Raoul evenly. "You may no longer be on the playing field when it comes to her affections, but she still needs her friend. Consider that before you do anything rash." Erik turned toward the window to leave.

Raoul seemed at a loss for words. He should have felt outraged by this encounter, but he suddenly realized that however he hated this masked man, Erik had spoken the truth. Christine deserved his respect, even if it did not extend to her choice in a partner. He watched Erik drop out of the open window to the ground one story below.


	37. Forgiveness and Love

Christine awoke to a soft tap at her door. Her head still throbbed from all the crying when she sat up and called out, "Erik?"

The door swung open, "No, It's just me my dear," Marie said. She carried a tray before her with a plate of food. She pushed the door shut behind her with her heel and set the tray down on the dresser with a clink of the china. "How are you feeling?"

Christine ignored her question as she pushed the hair from her eyes, "Is Erik back?"

Marie shook her head as she opened the curtains for her. "I haven't seen either of them before you ask about Raoul too."

Christine bowed her head and folded her hands together. "Do you think he will come back?"

"Well, if I know anything of men, he probably went off somewhere to nurse his hurt into a bottle, but considering the hour at which he left, it doesn't surprise me he didn't return to seek his bed yet."

"I hope he's alright," Christine worried. Her stomach rumbled as she smelled the food Marie brought up to her and she realized she had not eaten a bite since the picnic lunch she and Erik shared yesterday.

Marie propped the pillows up behind Christine so she could sit more comfortably while she ate, then brought the tray over to her lap and uncovered a plate of eggs, sausage and biscuits with jam.

"Thank you," Christine told her politely. She still didn't have the stomach emotionally to eat, but her body told her otherwise and she dove right into the food.

"After you are finished with your breakfast, come downstairs and have a bath. It will make you feel better, and then if you wish, you may come out with me to run errands. It will do you good instead of sitting around here thinking about things." Marie finished tidying up the room while Christine finished her breakfast then left to go start cleaning the other rooms downstairs.

Christine sat and munched on her biscuits after adding a liberal amount of jam to them. She felt better after eating something, but she felt dirty. She still had on the same clothing from yesterday that she had worn when she trained with Erik; when he removed her barrier to her chest and suckled her breasts hungrily. The memory lit up her face with the heat of desire then sadness smothered her as she realized that unless Erik returned, she would never again feel his lips on her skin. She finished her breakfast and wiped her mouth on the soft cloth napkin, then gathered up clean undergarments and another of the new and beautiful dresses Erik purchased for her.

Marie's maid was finishing drawing her bath when Christine went down to it. She glared at the woman, wishing she could slap the mouth that had betrayed information to Raoul about her supposed activities with Erik in her bedroom. The woman knew what she had done and exited the small room quickly, leaving Christine before the steaming tub. She sank into its deep water grateful for the healing heat to ease her sore muscles and tired mind. Her stomach was an anxious knot, not knowing whether Erik would come back or not. She knew how much she hurt him and regretted everything that she had done. Christine prayed he would be able to forgive her.

After bathing, she dried her hair on a towel and rang for the maid to help her dress. A glimpse out the window told her to expect rain later that day and she was tempted to return to her room for a different dress, but she felt the need to feel beautiful today. It bolstered her self confidence when she knew she looked good. After the maid left, Christine took out her knife from the pile of soiled clothing and lifted her sleeve to tie it on. She smiled and touched it thinking of Erik before she slid her sleeve back down to cover it. It surprised her how much a simple object could make her feel so bold.

When she returned to the great room to return upstairs to retrieve her cloak, she saw him standing there. Erik stood in the middle of the room by the fireplace. He had washed and dressed impeccably in a grey morning suit, his hair slicked back to his skull, and he wore his thin flesh-toned calfskin mask. Christine's breath held in her throat as she approached him. His posture did not reveal his temperament and she was apprehensive, waiting for him to speak. Her stomach turned to knots in the silence. After a moment, he gestured with a finger for her to follow him outside to the garden. With lead feet, she followed, knowing with a heavy heart that he was probably going to say goodbye; he was already dressed and had no doubt packed his belongings while she bathed. She felt she could no longer support her own body and slumped down onto the stone bench.

Erik faced her, "Christine," his voice barely above a whisper. He fell to his knees, "Will you forgive me for how I treated you last night?"

Christine was confused. "How you treated me?" she pondered. "There's nothing to forgive. I am the one at fault, Erik." She bade him to rise but he shook his head and remained as he was.

"I was hurt, so terribly by what Raoul said; by what you did," he shook his head. "I didn't want to believe you, but I know you are telling the truth."

Christine felt tears sting her already irritated eyes once more.

"I believe you," Erik said simply. "I know you love him, but you have been by my side regardless. I understand it is not the same love he feels for you." Erik nearly choked on the word 'love' but he managed to continue, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I was foolish for leaving you last night, but I didn't want to say anything to hurt you more." He reached for her hand, "Please Christine, forgive me. I forgive you."

Christine could not find her voice. Overwhelming relief at his words caused her to swoon. "Oh, Erik!" she cried and fell on her knees and into his arms. He gathered her up into his, feeling his immense love for this creature return in full force. Of course he forgave her for hurting him. Isn't that what people who loved each other did after a falling out?

She was suddenly kissing him, using her lips to say every word her voice could not bear to say. _I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Forgive me please._ His mouth and tongue claimed hers over and over in a frenzy as the passionate force of her acceptance astounded him. Christine gripped the back of his neck, feeling the softness of his hair in her grasp as she pressed her lips to his deeper, exploring his mouth with her tongue.

She broke the kiss to catch her breath, pressing her forehead to his. She looked him in the eyes, so close were they that she saw her reflection in them. With a delicate caress she held his face in her palm and whispered, "I love you Erik."

Erik's eyes closed and he knew he had lived his whole lifetime for this very moment. Her voice rang sweetly in his ears with her confession. "Oh Christine," he breathed, "I love you so much." His lips held hers once more and he clutched her to him tightly. He broke the kiss and simply hugged her there on their knees in that garden. His mask brushed against her hair and his eyes squeezed a teardrop from them as his sudden realization of happiness came crashing down upon him. He felt lighter than air with elation, so much that he nearly forgot to breath.

Christine clutched him close, knowing with a certainty like no other that when she spoke those words, none had ever been truer. She repeated it to him, "I'm in love you. I've always loved you."

Very suddenly Erik stood and lifted her with him in a display of incredible strength that for him seemed effortless. He spun her around in circles, laughing in his euphoria. He set her down letting her slippered feet touch the grass beneath them, then ushered her back onto the stone bench.

"Christine," he began as he knelt down in front of her with tears shining in his eyes. "Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man who ever lived? Will you be my wife?" He almost fumbled in drawing a small box from his pocket, then held it up before her and slowly opened it. There, nestled inside the satin was a tiny ring; a single clear diamond encased in a filigree netting of white gold surrounded by the bluest sapphires she had ever seen.

Christine's heart overflowed and filled her up so she was unable to speak. She bobbed her head yes as the smile broke out over her face and tears of joy spilled down her cheeks. "Yes!" she finally shouted.

With trembling hands, Erik took the ring from the box and slid it onto Christine's slender finger. She jumped off the bench into his arms as he stood and held him so close to her that they seemed as one creature, breathing their impassioned exhilaration. Their mouths met again and they kissed enthusiastically.

Erik never knew it was possible to feel this much love for any one thing in the world. "I love you, my Christine. My fiancée," his mouth turned up into a smile at the words he spoke.

"I love you too," Christine repeated, loving the sound of that title.

"You're mine now," Erik whispered possessively. "Mine to have for always, my love."

"I love the sound of that," was her soft reply.


	38. Town and Encounters

Erik thought his senses had gone awry in his joy when he felt his skin begin to prickle with ice or heat; he could not tell which. His only sense of mind was for Christine, his fiancée and the way she felt in his arms as he kissed her. It wasn't until Christine broke off from his mouth and said, "We should go inside out of this rain," that he realized what was causing his flesh to awaken.

Erik looked up at the overcast sky. "It's barely sprinkling, and I don't care."

Christine smiled brilliantly at him. "At the very least I would like to get my umbrella so I don't ruin my dress."

Erik nodded, then slid his arm around her waist tightly and let her back inside. There, they encountered Marie, who was either watching them or was very intuitive. She smiled and held out her arms, "Congratulations!"

Christine ran and hugged her, squealing with her excitement. "He proposed!" she exclaimed.

Marie winked at Erik over Christine's shoulder and said, "I knew he would. Now let's see this ring!"

Erik stood by and allowed the two women to exclaim and admire the ring he had designed for her. He beamed to see his little angel so happy and knowing he was directly responsible for it made his heart soar.

Marie released Christine's hand back to her and she addressed Erik, "You have impeccable taste in the truly beautiful." He knew she was not speaking of just the ring.

"Thank you Madame," he bowed slightly, unable to keep the grin from stretching across his face. Christine rushed back into his arms for another embrace, unable to keep herself from his arms for any longer than a moment. He gladly gathered her up and lifted her feet from the ground as he kissed her happily on her waiting lips.

Marie stood by smiling at the young couple. "I suppose I'll be setting off on my errands alone today."

Christine barely heard her, but Erik interceded as he placed Christine back to the floor. "Actually, I think we would love to accompany you into town. We have quite a lot of shopping to do ourselves."

"Erik?" Christine asked, "What more do we need before we return to Paris?"

Erik smiled devilishly at her and said, "A wedding trousseau."

A short time later they rode Marie's carriage into town. Erik and Christine were chattering like two lovebirds in a cage and Marie sat by watching them together, knowing they were so wrapped up in each other that she was nearly invisible to them. She was happy to see that Christine finally admitted her feelings for this man. It was obvious to her he had had a tough life and certainly deserved someone as sweet and caring as Christine. Her father would be proud of his daughter for her choice.

Erik helped Christine then Marie down from the carriage. Thankfully it had stopped sprinkling so Christine put her umbrella away. Marie knew that three made a crowd so she said, "I'm heading down the street for the things I need. If you will be long, I can send the carriage back here to pick you up at a later hour."

"That would be wonderful," Erik said. "Will you tell your driver to come for us in four hours or so?"

"Certainly," replied Marie. "Have fun with your fiancé, Christine." She gave her friend a short hug and left them to their morning.

Erik turned and nuzzled his mouth against Christine's warm neck, unable to resist kissing her pale throat.

"Erik, someone will see," she said, glancing around.

"Let them see, I don't care," he growled into her ear before nibbling her lobe gently. The gesture sent chills up her spine.

She laughed, then playfully pushed him away and gave him a very meaningful glance that stopped his breath in his chest. Her eyes told him _later_. She smiled and took his hand into hers and walked down the street to the tailor's shop.

The couple working there remembered them and Roger dropped everything he was working on to greet them warmly. "Ah, back so soon! I see you're wearing the grey suit today, a fine choice indeed." Apparently the money Erik paid on their previous visit was more than enough to purchase a few compliments.

His wife Adelia came into the room from the back. "You look lovely my dear. I'm glad you chose to take my advice on the lavender with the black lace trim. It brings out your eyes." She beamed at Christine.

Erik stepped up to Roger and offered his hand for the man to shake, which after the smallest moment of hesitation, he did. He remembered Erik's less than friendly demeanor from a few days prior and didn't know what to think of this new attitude. "My fiancée," he smiled at Christine and squeezed her hand, "will be needing a trousseau after all."

"How wonderful," Adelia exclaimed.

"Erik," Christine asked, "Will you stay here with me?"

"I would, but," he hesitated then added slyly, "I don't think I'm supposed to see the sort of things she will be making for you today."

Christine blushed hotly. "I supposed you're right."

"Don't worry. I don't plan to go far. I'll come back soon to see how things are going," he said, placing a kiss on her lips, then another upon the engagement ring she now wore.

For the next few hours, Erik strolled up and down the streets of town, not feeling the slightest inclination to hide his mask. He strode proudly, knowing that he would never again feel ashamed for his face or wearing a mask. Christine loved him, no matter how he looked and that was all that mattered. He stopped inside shops as he passed them to purchase gifts for his lovely fiancée. He bought her silver combs for her hair, and then some silk shawls he thought would compliment her very nicely. After buying several hats, he started heading back to the tailor shop.

Christine was nearly done in the back room with Adelia and Erik only had to wait a short while before his beloved returned to the front of the shop. She bounded into his arms and kissed him on the lips, not caring that Roger and Adelia were standing right behind her.

"I shall send the garments up to the inn as I did last time," Roger said. He cleared his throat, "Would you prefer to pay the bill now or shall I send it along with the articles?"

Erik did not feel like dickering with money just now. He would have to relinquish his hold on his beloved Christine for his money pouch. "Please just have the bill sent to the inn. I'll ensure proper payment is returned with the courier."

"Very well, monsieur."

Christine and Erik left the shop arm in arm. "What are those packages?" Christine asked.

"Presents for you my dear. I hope you don't mind, but I fully intend to spoil my fiancée," he replied. He shamelessly kissed her again in open view of passersby.

"No!" a shout was heard from behind them.

Christine turned when she heard the voice. Raoul stood in the middle of the cobbled street, holding a bunch of flowers in his hand and a bewildered look upon his face.

"Fiancée?" he choked. He looked painfully into Christine's eyes and she knew he was in shock.

"Yes Raoul. Erik proposed to me just this morning," she said softly holding out her hand to show him the ring. "We're to be married." Her pale fingers shook as she felt like the ring may as well have been a dagger she plunged into his heart.

"Married," he stammered. He seemed unable to grasp the concept fully, then dawning realization overcame him and his face tightened up into a rage. "You said you would eventually ask her! I didn't expect you would do it today!" he roared.

Christine flinched, then realized her wasn't addressing her. "Raoul what are you talking about?"

Erik held her closely while looking at Raoul and said, "I went to him this morning to talk some sense into his head."

"You bastard!" Raoul cursed. "You came to me and insisted I beg Christine's forgiveness, letting me believe I might still have a chance to make amends and change her mind before you stole her away for good. I had no idea you would rush off and propose before I'd had the time to wash and dress myself!" He threw the flowers angrily into the street where they landed in a puddle and splashed muddy water up onto his trousers.

"You went to him?" Christine inquired to Erik. "You did that for me?"

"Yes, my dear," he addressed her, still not taking his eyes off Raoul. "I wanted to make him accountable for how he treated you last night."

"Don't forget to mention the part where you threatened me!" Raoul spat at them.

"I never threatened you. I only stole into your room while you were sleeping because I knew I would never gain entrance to your bedchambers any other way. Can you honestly say you would have admitted me had I come knocking at your door?" Erik retorted.

He had Raoul stumped and speechless with that. Raoul stood there in the street, seething with hatred and jealousy.

Christine pressed Erik's arm with her hand gently to release his hold on her. She stepped toward Raoul and gently said, "I'm sorry you are hurt by this Raoul. But I love Erik. I am going to marry him and it wouldn't matter how much more you tried to convince me that you were the better choice, I just don't feel the same way."

Raoul did not want to listen to reason, "Are you so sure about that?"

Christine's eyes softened, knowing it would be hard for him to hear what she had to say. "You are my best friend. I can never thank you enough for being that to me, but it feels too strange to think of you romantically; to think of you in 'that way'," she emphasized suggestively. "I'm sorry Raoul," she said, then turned back to Erik.

Raoul's head reeled. She could not think of him sexually is what she meant to say. And yet she could find this hideous man before him attractive. He knew what depraved things Erik would do to her undressed body. He imagined his abhorrent mouth and other body parts delving into her most private and pleasurable places and the thought disgusted him and enraged him beyond thinking.

"No! I won't let you marry him!" he shouted at her, crazed beyond reasoning and he grabbed Christine's shoulder to turn her around.

Without thinking, Christine's previous instruction with Erik kicked in and she lanced her sharp elbow into Raoul's stomach driving the wind from his lungs while drawing his wrist back, painfully wrenching it towards his chest. She let go as his knees buckled and he croaked like a frog as he attempted to fill his lungs with air once more. He clutched at his stomach and wrist as he fell to his knees in the wet street.

Christine looked down at him in amazement of what she had just done. She glanced back at Erik only to see him looking surprised and pleased at her. Raoul stared at her incredulously as he taught his lungs to work again.

She stood over him, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry Raoul," she said, "But nobody tells me what I can and can't do."

Erik was at her elbow once more, taking her arm and leading her away to their awaiting carriage.


	39. Rain and Privacy

"I'm impressed," Erik said as the carriage began to rock back and forth on the bumpy road. He attempted to lighten Christine's mood.

"And I'm horrified," Christine said back. "I can't believe I did that to poor Raoul!"

Erik tried not to smile. He would forever carry the memory with him when he needed something to brighten his day, but he couldn't let Christine know that. "I can't say he didn't deserve it; he still did not apologize to you for last night."

Christine gave him an annoyed glance but chose not to comment on his remark. "Why did you not tell me you went to see him last night?" She had to get the details from Erik, the curiosity was killing her. "He seemed rather upset by you."

Erik leaned forward on the bench seat, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "Christine, I spent a great deal of time last night thinking about what he said and what you told me. I decided that you were telling the truth about your feelings towards him. I wanted to confront him so he would know where things stood as far as he needed to be concerned."

Christine motioned for him to continue.

"Obviously he is not taking this well, but I am trying to do what is best for you, and I know how much he means to you. I may hate him, or rather, used to hate him for trying to steal you away, but I have no wish for you to be unhappy," Erik confessed.

"Did you threaten him?" Christine asked, needing to know.

"No. The only thing threatening him this morning was his hangover," Erik smiled, remembering his aching head the previous week.

Christine accepted his story then said, "Let's change the subject my dear. Today is about us, and only us."

Erik smiled, "I wholeheartedly agree with you." He leaned over and placed a kiss on Christine's waiting lips. "What shall we talk about?" he breathed huskily upon her skin, looking into her eyes. He claimed her mouth again, pressing her back against the side of the rocking carriage.

"Erik," she breathed in mock protest between their lips. "We shouldn't…"

"If I remember correctly, you were worried about people seeing us, and now there isn't anyone around," he insisted, clutching the back of her neck to draw her face in closer to his.

"The driver," she gestured halfheartedly.

"…can't see us," he whispered. His hands boldly sank deep into her thick curls and his lips found themselves placing a trail of kisses from her lips to her earlobe which he drew in-between his teeth to gently nibble.

Christine clung to his shirtfront for support against the swaying of the carriage beneath them. She found the tiny voice inside her head feebly arguing against Erik's behavior. The weight of the ring on her finger and the sensation of his lips kissing their way down her neck following the low-cut lacey hemline were more than enough to drown out such inane excuses from that part of her mind.

Erik snaked out his tongue to suck at her neck and nibble at the flesh above her collarbone. Christine felt his previously chill hands grow warm as they held her close. His fingertips caressed her bared skin where the dress parted artfully down her chest to her décolletage. She felt his warm hand pause at the edge then slide down over it to cup her breast.

"Damn this corset!" he growled against her frustrated. His breath tickled her and sent gooseflesh rising on her arms. She laughed lightly at his curses, as she shared them. "If I can make one rule after we are married it will be for you to never wear another one of these damned things again!" he said vehemently.

The rain outside had picked up again and was now beating down upon the roof in an increasingly deafening roar. Erik could hear the swear of their driver cursing the weather and snapping the reins a few times to urge the horses on faster. Erik thought to himself, he was not the only one eager to get back to the inn.

The nervous laughter they shared over her clothing boundaries subdued the intense need of the moment, but did not entirely dismiss it. Erik and Christine kissed each other slowly, memorizing the feeling of their lips on one another's. Erik's breath rasped out his nose beneath the mask as he was unwilling to relinquish her lips to breathe. Before they knew it, the team of horses pulled them into the pathway to the Inn of the Setting Sun. The carriage tires sloshed mud puddles away from their path as the horses clopped their hooves onward, eager to get inside where they would be dry and fed.

When they pulled around the front of the inn, Erik looked outside, "Curse this weather. I had hoped to take you out to dinner, but unless this lets up…" he shook his head, "I don't think I could pay this man enough to persuade him back out in this mess."

As if to accentuate his words, the downpour strengthened and the front of the house could barely be seen between the sheets of rain.

"After you," he gestured jokingly.

Christine groaned, knowing her umbrella would be of little help against this force of rain. She pointed the black end out the carriage door and lifted it open, the weight of water nearly ripping it from her hands. Both she and Erik ducked out underneath its meager shelter and ran for the door, laughing the whole way.

After they sprang through the entryway Erik exclaimed, "I'm soaked!"

"Sorry about your suit," she replied, starting to wring water from her hair onto the rug.

He smiled at her then called for Marie. After a few moments of silence, he said, "She must be stuck in town still. I figured she would have beaten us back earlier."

Christine agreed. She did not wish to call for the maid, knowing her anger at the woman would return for having gossiped to Raoul. "Erik, I need to change out of these wet things," she started for the stairs.

Erik, being even more drenched than she, looked down at his sodden suit and said, "I think I need to as well." He bravely added quietly, "Would you like help undressing?"

Christine's heart quickened in her chest; _Yes_. She began humming and started up the stairs to her room, trying to be coy and nonchalant. She felt clumsy going before him on the stairs as he followed her up. Her skirts dragged wetly against the steps leaving trails and puddles on the carpet.

Christine could feel him close behind her as she approached her door. He reached around her and turned the handle for her, pushing the door inward. She turned into his arms and pulled him through the door, pushing it out of the way with her back. Erik took two strides, then shut the door quietly behind them.

Christine faced him, her breath coming in anxious gasps in the tightness of her dreaded undergarment. The dim light coming through the window at her back silhouetted her form, causing Erik's hunger for her intensify. He knew what he wanted and he also knew with a certainty that she would grant it to him now. Nervous excitement filled him and he looked for the most mundane of tasks to quell his apprehension. Erik walked past her and started to build up a fire in the small fireplace. His shoes squished wetly on the rug as he crouched down and stacked the logs. A few tries with a flint and the sparks caught the kindling, quickly growing into a warm blaze.

"Is that better Christine?" he asked as he turned around.

His jaw dropped. Christine stood before him in only her corset and chemise. Her dress lay puddled around her feet on the floor. She stepped out of it, her boots still wet and leaving prints on the rug. Boldly, she walked toward him and stood on her toes to kiss him. Erik's body reacted earnestly. This was not the first time seeing her dressed thus, but it was the first time she had removed her clothing on her own will and kissed him. It was the first time since he proposed that they were alone together. He broke the kiss, knowing exactly what he wanted more than anything. Privacy. They would not be disturbed or otherwise interrupted tonight. Erik left Christine standing before the fire, bewildered that he would let go of her. He cautiously drew the curtains closed, then with a pointed purpose, turned the lock on the door. At that moment, Christine felt very much like a mouse about to be pounced by a cat. She was, for once, very pleased to be a mouse.


	40. Fire and Ice

Erik watched Christine tremble slightly, whether from cold or apprehension, as he stood by the door. His own stomach clenched tightly knowing he was treading on a precipice; one he knew there was little reason not to fall into. He wanted to preserve Christine's innocence, but now she accepted his proposal, it was only a matter of time until he stole that away. Erik longed for that 'matter of time' to be in a few scant moments.

Christine held her breath, feeling the heat of the fire against her back and the cold wetness of her chemise against her legs. Erik's body was taunt with need. He glided across the room to meet her. As he stood before her, she swallowed dryly.

"Erik," she whispered.

He silenced her with his kiss. Her skin felt hot beneath his touch through the thin material. His hands shook a little as he brought his arms around her waist and drew her close. His mouth moved against hers, his tongue caressed her lips into opening. She surrendered to his kiss and reveled in the feeling of his arms around her so intimately.

"Turn around," Erik said softly. She did as she was told, standing before the light and warmth of the fire. She felt his deft fingers start to undo the laces of her corset. Christine focused on flames that licked the dry logs hungrily while she felt the drawstrings being tugged open down her back. As the pressure on her ribcage began to subside, she breathed deeper. With one last tug, she felt the material release and fall away into Erik's hands. She sighed with relief when the dreaded garment was missing from her torso. Christine heard him drop it carelessly to the floor and she realized just how vulnerably naked she felt before him.

"Christine," he said, "I love you so much." He wound his arms around her pulling her back against him. She felt the damp of his clothing mixed with the heat of his body and she swore that were she to turn around now, steam would be rising from his body.

"I love you too," she said. Her voice hitched nervously.

Erik's fingers guided her wet hair off her shoulder to one side and placed a small kiss at her neck just below her ear. "Are you nervous?" he asked in a voice so unsure it sounded nothing like him.

Christine could not find the ability to answer. She nodded her head once, holding his hands across her stomach.

"I would never hurt you Christine," he promised. "We don't have to do anything."

The logs popped and cracked in the hearth before them. They seemed to urge them on with the flames that danced wildly in their confines. Erik knew he should be freezing, but his face felt so hot underneath his mask. He slid his hand up to remove it. He wanted to stand before Christine without it; even with his clothes on, without the mask he felt absolutely exposed. The heat of the fire felt wonderful on his bared skin, as did the sensation of pressing his face into her hair to smell its cleanliness. She smelled of rain and violet blossoms.

Christine heard the absolute truth in his voice, and something else indefinable. Fear perhaps? She herself was terrified of being alone and naked with a man, but her most basic instincts screamed at her to allow him to continue undressing her. Although Erik was older than she, perhaps he was just as nervous. "Erik, have you ever…"

Erik knew her question although she never finished it. "No."

Christine heard the pain and regret housed in that solitary word. She turned to him, not at all shocked to find his mask removed. As she looked into his eyes, she found the sincere hunger there. She knew what he wanted and she suddenly felt wretched for having denied him all this time what her heart and body knew he deserved.

"You should take off your wet clothing before you catch a chill," she suggested, not sure of how else to voice what she really meant.

Erik stared into his beloved's eyes deeply. Without breaking his focus, he let his mask fall to the floor, forgotten. He shook his coat off, soon followed by the vest and tie, which his twitchy fingers fought to loosen. Christine's small hand helped him undo the knot then pulled it free from his collar.

"Sit down on the bed," he said.

Christine's heart thumped oddly inside her breast at the command in his voice. She sat obediently at its edge feeling the soft springs creak beneath her. Erik knelt in front of her and lifted her foot up. He slowly pulled off her boot, letting it fall aside with a thud. Her other boot followed the first. Erik touched her feet then to her surprise, slid his hand slowly up her leg beneath the hem of her chemise until his fingers reached her thigh and the edge of her stockings. He pulled them down her leg with care, allowing his fingertips to graze her smooth skin. Erik's hands found the second one and removed it likewise, only he pressed kisses down her shin following the material. Christine held her breath, knowing she only wore one article of clothing now and how ridiculously easy it would be for him to tear it away and leave her naked and trembling before him on the bed. She felt like ice that had been set on fire at his touch.

"Now lie down," Erik's silky voice told her.

Her heart beat like a rabbit inside her chest as she reclined back against the pillows. Erik unbuttoned his shirt composedly until his chest was bare and his garment joined the others in the heap on the floor.

He stood at the edge of her bed, looking down at her timid face against the white sheets. He wanted her more than he could stand, but here and now only moments away from all he had ever desired and his nerve was failing him. He placed one knee at the mattress's edge and supported himself as he reclined next to her body. The room was quite cozy and warm now from the small fire that burned but his fingers were once again chilled with the apprehension he felt. He also realized that the usual bulge in his pants was surprisingly absent.

Christine lay very still as Erik nudged closer to her. "Erik, are you nervous too?" she whispered as she regarded his half naked body.

Erik wanted to answer, but afraid to be the coward he said nothing. _Why in bloody hell are you hesitating now? _His brains screamed at him to take her! His hesitant hand rested on the sheets between them and clutched at the material. His entire body was in turmoil. He made up his mind as he looked at her beautiful face gazing up at him.

"Maybe we should wait," the words tore themselves painfully from his lips before he had the mind to stop them.

Christine suddenly looked disappointed. This person before him, whom he had witnessed transform from a girl into a woman, although frightened of the intimacy he desired, looked disappointed at his rejection.

"Erik, what's the matter? Don't you want me?" Christine asked shyly. Erik had always showed such restraint and now she was willing to give herself to him completely and he was backing out?

"Oh God, how can you even ask that," Erik asked fervidly. He bent his head to kiss her mouth and silence such assumptions. She moved underneath him and that motion only served to drive Erik on. Her hands were suddenly on his bare chest touching his pale skin lightly. She slid her hands behind his neck and pulled him closer, deepening their kiss. Erik's own hands were no longer frozen in time; they danced all over her body, feeling the curve of her hip then the smoothness of her stomach and the soft weight of her breasts. He caressed each nipple into standing erect against the material with the pad of his thumb.

Christine leaned toward Erik, moaning softly against his mouth. She longed to feel his hot tongue on her nipples as she had felt yesterday in the church. The pulsating throb returned between her thighs, making her feel swollen and heavy there. As if he could read her mind, his fingers pulled the top of the chemise down to the side exposing her breast to his exploring lips. He sucked her gently, tasting her skin. Erik's nether regions came to life as he did so, causing him to cry out almost painfully against her. The need he felt was so abrupt it took his breath away. As his mouth worshipped her breasts one after the other, he felt down the side of her writhing body, past her hips to her thigh. He daringly slid his hand back up her leg as she bent her knee, taking the hem of the chemise with it. It bunched around his wrist as he cupped her hip in his grasp feeling the firmness of her ass.

It wasn't enough. He wanted to see her, to touch her completely. He broke free of her breasts to cover her mouth with his own again, his hand keeping ownership of the curve beneath her buttocks.

"I want to see you," he rasped hungrily against her lips. She nodded with a slight whimper of pleasure against his mouth. Erik lifted himself up and knelt by her side. Her hair was tousled around her face and her eyes stared lustily at him in the flickering light. Christine had ruined so many garments on this vacation, what was one more? He held the nearly transparent material in either hand and tore it down the middle from seam to seam. Christine gasped in her shock at being undressed in such a manner. Erik stared at her perfect body in the firelight. Her breasts were perfectly upturned and heavily pink from his kisses. The muscles were barely definable on her smooth stomach and her waist was so tiny against her rounded hips. A tuft of darkness drew his eyes between her legs and he throbbed to know what lie therein. All the wonders of a woman's body were lain out before him in this glorious package and he knew he had a lifetime to explore each and every one of them. He was suddenly not in such a hurry. Like an exquisitely beautiful aria, he wanted to enjoy and savor each note as it was offered. If there was one thing he could say about himself, it was that he had learned to be a patient man.

Christine felt doubly naked under his scrutinizing eyes. The ravenous way his eyes collected the sight of her body before him made her go weak. _Yes, this feels right _she thought. She moved her knee higher, as though she could somehow hide her most private area from his gaze by doing so. He leaned down, finally taking his eyes off her body and looking into her own once again. "Are you certain?" he asked seeing her timorous reaction to his survey.

"Yes," her voice squeaked.

Erik groaned softly, "You don't sound like it." He kissed her lips, not allowing her to know how agonizing this was for him. She kissed him back, but he could tell she was acting more reserved now her pathetic shield of an undergarment was gone. "We don't have to…"

She was tempted to agree, so very tempted. Her fear of the unknown set butterflies fluttering about in her stomach, only they felt more like monstrous moths for all the turmoil they were causing. She knew the stories from the other promiscuous chorus girls how it hurt the first time. 'Even if the man is gentle with you, it always hurts,' they assured her. Her hands were cold thinking about it. How badly would it hurt? She didn't know.

Erik could feel her withdraw into her mind. "What's the matter?"

Christine did not wish to tell him, but knew it would be pointless to keep silent, "It's going to hurt isn't it?"

Erik exhaled and shook his head, "I don't know; probably. At least I've heard so." He could see the fear in her eyes now. "But it doesn't last, that I do know."

Christine still curled her knees tighter, as though to protect herself from harm.

"It doesn't have to hurt tonight," he suggested. "There are ways… I could make it beautiful for you."

Christine had no idea what he was talking about. She didn't want to stop, but she was too fearful to continue the way she was thinking of.

"Let me show you, please," Erik pleaded. She nodded for him to do so. If he couldn't finalize their bond together as one tonight, he would at least have one thing he desired. "I've always wanted to kiss you."

Christine was confused, but then as she felt his lips start kissing their way down her body, she knew what he meant.

Erik paused only momentarily to lick her nipples back to life once more on his way down her stomach. His hands supported himself as he moved further south. Her knee pressed into his stomach as he centered himself over her. With a gentle hand, he persuaded it down onto the bed then he drifted his fingertips up her inner thigh. She shivered underneath him at the tickling contact.

"Part your legs," he told her with warm breath against her navel.

Her knees shook with anticipation as she did so. He knelt between them, the material of his pants brushing her bare legs. Never before had she felt so delightfully vulnerable. She held her breath and closed her eyes, waiting for the kiss Erik had promised.

Nothing could prepare Christine for the jolt of pleasure that rang through her entire body as she felt one long hesitant finger touch her between her legs. She momentarily opened her eyes and looked down to see Erik staring cravingly at her womanhood as he touched her experimentally. Erik slid his fingertips into the soft folds of her secret place, feeling the slick wet there. Christine gasped and began to tighten her leg up against his. Having never touched a woman thus, he explored her studiously with his fingers, slipping them up and down and watching Christine react from the thrill of it.

Without warning, Christine felt his hot mouth descend to where his hand had just caressed. She wanted to scream for the pleasure of it all. She never knew his tongue could do more than give her chills when he kissed her mouth. What she felt as he kissed her was nothing in comparison to the mind bending stimulation he caused now. Her hips began to rhythmically buck against his mouth and she felt his tight grip on her butt holding his mouth to her as she did. She moaned quietly, fearing to let loose the sounds that built up inside her throat.

Erik's mouth watered as he tasted her. He plunged his tongue between her lips and flicked the small bead of flesh that now stood out against his taste-buds. She writhed against him, driving his madness on. The rock in his pants strained and screamed at him for release but he could not; not yet. He ground his crotch against the bed, trying to quell the pulsating demand. He lapped at her slickness, tasting her sweet flavor and smelling what could only be described as a delicate perfume. As she ground against his tongue, all rational thought left his mind. This was primal urging at its best and he wanted for nothing more than to hear her lose her sanity at his kiss.

Christine felt a throbbing swelling centered where Erik's wonderful kiss started and ended. She strained towards it, wanting more and more, unable to describe the need of what she strove for, but unable to resist it either. At last she felt herself at the edge of whatever she had climbed towards. Her body clenched violently as flood of pleasure overtook her and she screamed out Erik's name. She jerked towards and away from his still moving tongue, suddenly overwhelmed and exhausted, wanting more, but unable to handle it. She collapsed into a quivering mass of limbs, her legs hurt from tensing so hard.

Erik pulled himself up off her, marveling at her reaction to what he had just done. His lips were swollen and wet from his substitute lovemaking. He felt somewhat ashamed at what happened. Unable to help himself, he had come to the same climax as she, only he would never let her know that. Hearing his name on her lips as she came and feeling her body pressing itself wantonly against his face had been too much.

Christine breathed heavily, her body was slick with sweat and her limbs trembled in the afterglow. Erik crawled alongside her, nearly as exhausted as she. He kissed her once, then noticed she had tears running down her face.

"What's wrong?" he suddenly asked, worried he might have hurt her.

"Nothing is wrong, Erik. That was…"

"Amazing," he finished her sentence.

Christine relaxed into the softness of the mattress and curled her arms around Erik's shoulders as he lay his head down on her bare chest. "I love you my husband to be."

"I love you Christine, my angel," was his soft reply before they both fell into a blissful slumber as they listened to the rain tapping on the panes of the window.


End file.
